i wrote this right after you left

the best of my thoughts
travel lightly
and often get lost
along the winding road
that passes through
the infrastructure
of my unconscious
through truck stops
and alleyways
chain restaurants
and chain link fences

they get stopped at borders
that have been drawn
by bankers
who call themselves artists
who pretend they’re architects

they use the lines
to separate
to keep things out
and in

these thoughts of mine
that work so hard
to seek the freedom
that has been promised
get roughed up by border guards
who seem intent
on using freedom
against itself

these synapses
that stand guard
against any thought
that may not be linear
or easily unpacked
or that may endanger
the lines that have been drawn
so neatly
in the shape of florida
and texas
and arizona
and mesopotamia

“don’t fucking mess with our maps

there’s always something lost
along the way
but to have it taken
like that

the vehicle
and those who travel inside it
charged with smuggling
arrested and strip searched

all the best parts of my thoughts
are confiscated
in the name of freedom
which is not free at all
it turns out
everything has a price
and if you don’t charge something
you’re the one that ends up paying

so i’m planning a raid
that i won’t call a revolution
because i don’t really have time
to wait
for things to turn around

i’ve been trying to locate where
all of these thoughts
are being stored
after they get taken
and i’m planning on taking them back
by force if necessary

if i find what they have taken from you
i will keep it with mine
until we see each other again


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