illumination

something happening with neptune that i don't know about, yet some new-agey philanthropist shouts this at me because people in touch are supposed to know these things, and my mind, though unable to send a verbal message to my mouth, is pouring into the canyon in my chest, and i wonder what negative black space, what satanic metaphor, is holding me down, still, after all these years, and, nails thick, pressing into my skin like bamboo torture, and out of breath for doing nothing, i flip open to a page of blake's illuminations and wonder at what point jerusalem's restoration was inevitable, if it was in yahweh's stars, or if that city could have ended when it wasn't on the map, snuffed out by all the world.