Parachute Cockroach

Parachute Cockroach

A cacophony of failure bellowing from every ledge

Of ceiling molding perfectly level and every molecule

Descending from its plateau is a horror of decibels

Infiltrating the parameters in a block of denial

To every pursuit, to rebuff the notion of the parachute working

Or these cardboard moth wings moving with enough speed to conjure lift

And slow down this descent into a quagmire of losing

Of these loose strings unspooling from the bungee line

To let out the excess and ugly faces find

The floor a bite like an elephant into the wood

Cockroach can not broach the subject of success

Without a hand hammer pounding down to smash

The last hope of climbing back up to that space

On high where somehow the animal in me is still alive

To attempt again and not eat the pavement

Bloody these cheeks on asphalt or tile and join the cult

Of zero victories in a million attempts, closing in on records

And theories of what can not occur of who will survive

When all is taken and there is no shelter or line

That opposing forces have not crossed to object

To hope like a rusted shield bursting in red oxides

Fluttering in suffocating dust impaling the will to continue

With stabbing corroded blows to ensure failure’s permanence