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Tilting

(The Crumbling Empire Of White People)

But I am not the hero
Neither beast nor sacred androgyne
I'm the fear of all self-conscious creatures
A universal feature
An unrelenting sign

I am tilting all rickety and burned
Slowly wilting from interest unreturned

I am tilting on a random axis
The galaxy in parallax
It's bad to scrap the practice for the theory
Tilting at a giant windmill
Perhaps the hidden miss within will
Keep her leitmotifs original (or nearly)

Oh I am tilting with delusionary glee
Tilting Rumpelstiltskin jubilee
Tilting like a pilgrim toward a star
Tilting through my quantum repertoire
(What could the matter be?)

I am tilting like a willow tree
Lily gilding bewildered chivalry

Oh I am tilting like an insect flicked away
Tilting over heartbreak and dismay
Tilting ipso facto fantasy
Tilting patterns from mythology

But I am not the hero
Neither beast nor sacred androgyne
I'm the fear of all self-conscious creatures
A universal feature
An unrelenting sign

I am tilting like a pinball game
Little jiltings accumulate like shame
I am tilting-an out of season flower
Like a building-that leaning Pisan tower
I am tilting