I am a quiver of harpoons
Blazing through open water
Bolstering ruin from the inside out
The tarnished incarnation of
Maniacal selfishness, compulsive deceit, the worst:
The illicit use of deliberate focus.
Our seesaw is defunct
Loyalty, catapulted from its rightful position
By indulgence gorged on secrecy
And, stumbling homeward,
Loathing the sight of his own feet before him
He is greeted by a yawning door and a hungry den
Without a phantom to split the cost
Without a mirror to share the joy of the aching day
There, tumbling in distress
Insatiability will bankrupt his body
Solitude will lose its security
And craving his enemy is becoming the norm
In my fragility I lack the capacity to endure loss.
I am a bowl too small for swimming,
A stem blown to be splintered.
7 May 2009
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