It's the moment of pre-impact
Whose great pain causes
Trepidation sweats
And the terrible agony
Of brown darkness
Useless, no-good, poorly
Thought-out are the
Most likely responses
At that distorted
Statistical moment
And the head crashes into
The heart while both
Hands keep the windpipe
From playing any new music
Because of course that would be
A waste of sound as well
According to what
Is certainly coming
As the against-the-grain
Shoots slivers under every
Fingernail and scratches
Its chalkboard, according to
The dastardly whims
Of every reviewer
Roman Ryan 