what a twisted world we weave of webs.
under tenfold skies can you hear me when i'm calling for granted?
when lights invade a mist of body-piled magnitude?
forced to live and work with lesser men
and women screaming of insubstantialism.
i tried to be a cut above a sky too dark
a hair to fine.
swim back to this this magenta of sweat and shining drops
morning clad with the oils of xenolithic purity.
i tried to be a wind too strong
a touch too soft
a path below.
felonious grazing on proffered pastures
noontime with exotic teas
bloody and opiated.
i tried to be the inbetween
a sight too sore
a sight too clean
i tried to be the everything
a mended heart
a broken wing.