Carelessness rains down upon me, such as, beads of sweat.
Memories cease, then seize…
Perhaps the pensive season is not done with me yet.
No matter how high my wall…a manicured finger repels the distance…
placing on guards…on stall.
‘How did I get to this place?” I ask.
It is a point of phrase…given from the easiness of my high chair.
All is asunder…as I watch another brick begin to fall.
I ask again, and…again…
‘How did I get to this place? how did I become so un-evolved?’