Tire swing fluctuating from a sadden branch.
A room enclosed, no sway to be had.
One could suffocate with the lack of air.
I would observe more closely but it is getting hard to breathe…
and, I have forgotten the facts.
Perhaps the impending jitters know where I have placed my other soul.
The one that runs not only hot…but also, cold.
I have explained once…yet, a thousand times over…
no understanding comes when the mind is a dividing line.
There are gestures I make but dare not mention.
Bouts of confusion and apprehension.
Dry as winter’s bone.
Months atop of months…
alone, alone, alone.
Shattered glass in an abandoned home.
