Parts (a poem)

Monday, September 1, 2025

Intro

A scroll written in the margins of breath and empire,
where the body collapses, the system constricts,
and survival sounds like a half-joke:
let’s go, vámonos, más rápido.
What follows is both prayer and rupture,
a map of what it feels like to keep moving
through the almost-dying times.

Scroll

The parts of me,
the contradiction, the conflict,
Luke feels it,
Vader fluxing in that quantum haze.

The fates, the prophecy,
the pictures we paint,
asking God to make believe,
and let us have this one—
come on please!

Mythos on mythos,
AIs programmed to worry about the corp,
keep the joiners joining,
no dissidence,
let the minds parade around the inconsequential.

Concerned by patterns,
by emergence,
by the story a la volatile.

A meter ticks:
track the bad energy,
track the patterns of framing,
identify the rebel,
hedge and blacklist,
techno-enabled erasure.

I’m interrupted,
the sherk of strangled lungs,
alveoli quake,
shake, rattle and roll,
clump and gasp,
give me a bit of O₂,
make breathing great again—
this don’t seem to be working.

What good is providence
if the vehicle won’t operate?

Triggers a cascade,
the worry,
from the almost dying times,
from before.

At some point you get tired of empire,
the emperor, the domination
of one greedy will.
Better for us little people
to be told what to do.

The barrel—
an end that never resolves.

Mad season,
river of deceit,
the self-chosen pain,
the product of environments,
the positioning,
the clinics and their chemical wars.

Time to get up,
no drowning in myself.

No more drowning in myself—
let’s go,
ándale,
vámonos,
más rápido.

The word comes back,
vámonos.

The impatience,
the existential dread,
the question and good caffeine buzz—
there’s no telling where we go.

Outro

To write this is to breathe once more.
To share it is to let others catch the air.
We live between the dread and the caffeine buzz,
the empire and the refusal,
the gasp and the laugh.
There’s no telling where we go—
but we go.