middle of the night apathy, empathy…
make shift post traumatic…mental surgery
these gestures grapple my tension…
and, tackle the feet
leading me to question the woman…I had hoped to retrieve
…
it is the middle of the day…
thoughts…going, gone,
go away
when time is tucked in the fray
sympathy, mockery…feelings of purging and perjury…
dance in ambient light
…
fallen…mid-stream to the rapid, blur of being on the wayside
the woman I once retrieved
questioning…
‘why fight?’
…
so often she is a parody of nature
…
in the midst of a heatwave…humid doubt creeps in
shaking the heavily salted sweat from my mane
elements needed in forgetting why she…and, I…came
