waves of mutability knock and misalign the rigidity of my current consciousness
deterring a sense of placement in the constant of moment to moment
garb flowing about in attempts to syncopate
losing the drag of the undertow
i tend to float on the crest of my mind's lofty scenarios
giving little weight to what is
foothold runs snags between wide sutures
where the gash is transient in care
stench of rot sings the route variance
bobbing in the flicker interim
the dimming and garbled perception caught in glimpses
hopeful the decay will cease to seep of seams loosed
the tentacle swings and catches that which is hard set in the groove of the predictable
i recede amongst the heavy handed
detached in the oceans of "it's all much better in my head"
a literal work in progress
