from ground
up–
brittle structure
sprouts
to offer
self
to
all
without,
never doubting
purpose,
not
verbose,
never fretful
of those
who
creep too
close.
shadow work
it’s raining fresh
jellyfish,
and each sting
brings
greater depth of
clarity–
umbrella may
keep eyes
dry
but won’t
save
me,
pins find my
skin
thru thinnin’
canvas
like they know
where each
tender
spot
is.
weightless as
unseen,
and pleased
to be
in my tree,
overlooking sea’s
cold, murky
history
while it rages
back at
me.
deeper into
sky
aimed for
self-combustion,
coasting spaceship
drippin’
milk..
and spitting
sand–
frantic to
find
a calm patch
of land.
looked like
a sure
bet..
it was rigged
from the
start,
to teach me there’s
no healthy
use for
regret,
never will get the
chance
back
to count my
chips..
to lose my
head,
in such blind
lack of
of
self
respect.
tried to tell
you
but white lies
found a
way
out
of
mouth,
greasy mouth..
creator of reasons
not to believe..
i’ve changed
now..
it’s true,
so, trust me when
i warn you
not
to.
i’d parade you in
every glamor
bowl
but know vanity
takes its
toll..
check my trophy’s
collectin’
dust,
turned that golden
face towards
the wall
to hide signs
of rust,
but caught
its..
reflection and
bawled.
chrysalis has
thinned..
a skin or
two
thrust half
formed–
wings from
torpor
sprung to
flight
on starless
eve..
radar scoping out
frontiers.
had an
idea-
not a sound
one..
but gears are
grinding-
that a good
sign?
a little smoke?
should
be
ok
until
mayday.
a word and
tone
screwed into
bones–
drilling too
deep
for whispers
so cold.
a shrug on dark side
of the phone..
hello??
hands in the garden 
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