the loss of thee


I view myself at a distance
fighting for solid ground in quicksands
for I see myself
battle blazes
of grass and thistle in winter  chill.

Peer often, I do into dark abyss.
sometimes of my own choosing
often not.

even weakened as I am,
I fear the bursts of violence that could come
from this tiny me.
then, I am immobile,

bed ridden from such ripped emotion.
I, two, have tested and tried the fit
of ways and means to end this endless pain
called my self

Tears dripping of poisonous venom

ease  ease  ease
an IV drip in reverse
ease the venom out
in endless
.            salty   salty tears.

precious electronic moments
which  all of you have so few to waste
on the likes o me
keep me from
tipping completely over
in hot wind.
for I teeter
without the accompanying

scattered lines are

that rope to which i cling

as it ravels..




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