i let it worm it’s way into my soul like a blow fly into the tangential corpse of battered ramshackle loss

can’t believe my heart sputters on like a wind up toy that refuses to let go of kinetic belief in the face of acutality

possession is nine tenths of the law of absolute surrender, than i belong to you as surely as if stamped in brass

i would call your name but fumbling tongue and a head unmade by language cannot form the consonants

the only constant is the lack of ability to fully articulate the truth in a tornado of splintered call backs and missed messages

lost in translation, limp in transition, lame in tribulation another unsent missive, submissive and sanguine