stainglass shell

i find myself
on a web
quite still
as is my
peculiar nature
feeling the
of alien
run beneath
my curiously
awkward perch

i make myself
as small as i can
to not disturb
the buzzing
afraid if i
become to active
a tidal wave of
my madness will
drown the land
and i will be
relagated to the
silence i incur
as payment for sins
as yet uncommitted

the strands
untangle as i sit
frozen with anxiety
as it all falls
to nothing
grateful for the
brief moment
even as i plummet
back to my own
specially tailored
hell on earth and
i hold too tight
the fragmented
wisps to light
the darkness within

and tenderly gunshy
new webs form
as i curl up
a tortoise in
a stainglassed shell
born for the land
but dreaming always
of the ocean waves
awaiting the
inevitable fall
a terrible friend
but one helluva
half-assed poet
just don’t tap
on the glass

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