you'd be on my mind if i
weren't trying to escape it
the feeling, or the hatred,
the incessant contemplation.

a cloak of sincerity
for my bidding in time.

the tissue box is waiting
for another set of tears
for a romance, an illness,
just a deluge
let it pour.

& in my red rain boots i'd withstand it all. i would let it pour, i'd let it pour...

a crooked back
just the weight of
a worry or a care.

at least i can resist you now,
at least i can see the difference,
the revolution of a year.

((& the greenbottle glass is long gone))

do you think you've got
the sensitivity
the concern
the rhythm of a heart?

i'd un-glue us if i could;
sometimes you just
...
disgust me.

post.script. & if you don't even possess the guilt; your delusion is more transcendent than i would have myself believe.