Bing bong bong Bing get me off this wretched thing
Unhinged
I can only ever conceptualize one item that’s hinged
A door on a frame
And it always swings one way
Viewed from the point of greeting
The space between the last journey and the next
The minuscule metal mech managing my marcid movement
Unhinged
A fault of time or wear or circumstance
Helpless to protect the creatures that abuse its injury to continue a journey not yet meant to be trekked
Wholly unable to regenerate or renew reliant on others for repair.
Others who rumble and tumble through the liminal spaces bruised with each impact on the frame
Unyielding until unilaterally uniting
With a door on a frame
Hinged














