The blood takes its loan against tomorrow’s pulse After hours transaction off the books
Short debts clear by dawn Long ones compound in the marrow accruing what you couldn’t spend on sanctioned work on billable hours
Each word draws down reserves from accounts meant for daylight Day pieces cash out clean complete Novels eat the principal years at fixed interest half-life after half-life of the original feeling degrading
What remains still radiates but fainter each decay The mass increases The velocity stays the same
You write to pay what writing costs Another year borrowed Another isotope of who you were when this began Still unauthorized Still withdrawing from yourself