all awash
with the greys of another day lost.
crawl space, attic highs,
knees weak from dead horses
relinquish and delay, capture and release
my chamber is endless, human and scarred
wavering and spontaneous, but well thought and obsessed
there is no OFF! button or human switch
bait me with half wit and unrehearsed dialogue
to have and have not is the norm,
and charm has lost its grace.
to walk wire and string balloons as high as chance
to wander in this trust, whatever it may be.
i see the looks and gazes
the way you hang like portraits of perfect dysfunction
been way too encumbered to have read between
expiration notices and unsigned leases
this is a wash.
this is a claim.
we seem to fade
as quick as our ad libs and retractions.
i could write you the perfect paraphrase
to your unrealized quips
and unfinished biographies
no summaries or handicaps,
just unborn literary drones
i'll stay here now
forever in the womb of intention
stammering; on the straight and careless.
my only mistake was letting you see my sleeve.
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