Best not left to my own devices.
If those devices be broken.
What if the vices in proper fashion…
The gravity of ash.
The implication of timber.
The mask of pedigree.
lost in a tunnel of vision.
Only surfacing for the blind to see.
there is no salt in my tears.
I let the injured waves wash over me.
Inherently out of focus…
I have no inclination to letting the broken be.