Donna Dallas

Self-Proclaimed Lunacy

Watch me
run — really run on the
wheel the
hamster wheel my legs are cut up bruised and
I’m gaunt maybe I’m dead – a running corpse — I
cannot see anymore I just hear the wheel
I complete the motions naturally since
there is nothing to see – blank
a big – nothing – me
and nothing go together hand in hand
we go together like the wheel under my bloody feet
my head oozes from the rotary vibrations
blood drips from my fingertips into my
water bowl I try to
stop but
it’s an addiction how can I not yearn for
the wheel the nights slip
from me as I run and run and years
and tears and babies are boys are men and I’m still
on the wheel but now I am the wheel and the wheel
is me my bones have
replaced the metal when I crack
into pieces and finally disintegrate I pray there
will still be an electric current left from
my original dynamic
core and you’ll continue to hear it – the wheel……..
the mother fuckin wheel