the flow of ink gathers on a brush, leave the constriction of the first letter, clear the hangmans stage.

you, waiting for testament, backed to the wall, spine broken; flutter in defiance.

break me into the green, feed me the gladness of lambs running together.

ruffle the quiet suburbs, under the skirt sass kicks life down the street.

slip under the brave face, yard sheets hung drying, a howl lingers.

nostalgia free wheels, my default mode network driving my morning.

to arrive naked, unburdened by possession, arms open.

the journey to the surface may be a long one.

slab heads. unmoved by blood, rigid in isolation.

75 lampposts are the lifespan, i hear uccello's horses dying as i cycle, lances waiting to tilt.

neck turned to lose the head's dead weight, body cantilevered into rest.

sloughing off the old, raucous laughter rings the canyon, your vulnerable eye sees nature hasn't gifted a second coming.

shame creeps in, throttling you in the corner with your foolish dreams.

corner stone, braced for purpose. consider these ties that bind, arcane evolutionary shortcuts.

take heart in the thorny tryst, froth, jubilant, rises through the rain.

it's a lonely party, you terrify corridors, your grin is tearing holes in the earth.

how did you wash up, plastic coated, fuel injected gene edited remnant.

muffle the roar of the wind through the gully, tuck slim fingers through upright trees, strike formlessness into design.

the arm that falls open beckons in your future, visions, lovers and assassins.

your shirts are the blue backdrop of my attachment.