The Ride

A poem

If happiness was a Whale,

I would be swallowed Whole,

bumping against time and flesh

to get things done.

Making my way through channels

of wastes, and rivers of madness

only excreted on the enterprises

of my understanding. Pushed out

through ventricles of Fate, notwithstanding

displaced Fortitude. I made it

Through the Beast’s belly, only

to be caught in its portal and forced

back through a spout where

he’d like to spit me out to ride

The everlasting wave.