Please, Explain This to Me

I am making a list, checking my pen for ink,
writing reasons, and reasons for reasons,
letters that contain the most scripted circles,
fights that die to my waking sight, yet live on,
like an attempt at suffocating an anaerobic pest.

In this pre-fab nightmare, the circles conspire,
forming a coil that buzzes through my fingers,
drags out the truth for a beating and I search for an explanation,
as though the writing had frayed their purpose,
to serve some craving of my own, for knowledge.

Rest Those Weary Eyes

I've seen distance collapse through time,
like the folding of a napkin, meeting plaid with fringe,
I read my timeline forwards, but a year in reverse,
like a train operator in a caboose, my sentiment is delayed.

I rather enjoy the grit of my present situation,
but my nerves feel padded, insensitive to the air's temper,
I feel frostbitten by the bitter wind the has blown me to sleep,
relishing the cold solidity of brick beneath my face.

Another

Like an arrangement of spheres,
assembled to host a perfect grid,
usurped by the a crater formed
by the betrayal of the floor:
the blanket of a curious fellow.

It's me adding one to 20,
upsetting the equality of a scale,
the truth of 20 = 20 is removed,
as arbitration doles out
an especially confusing world.

Never a matter of ready or not,
I just am who I am: an apparent heir,
to be one less 20 is minuscule to me,
like receiving a quarterly report,
it capitalizes on one step in time over any other.