"Your words make it awkward"

muscle memory
in cadence
to point in tone
smoothing every over with rattle
the build to common
bicker
in wads of facadal futures
compacting your observation
into speckled weight

"We're gonna change all that"

"That's what I'm here for"

And I
on the receptive end
flowing through treks of padded
soft billowy plains
knowing you are immersed in
the frigid war

bombarded dissection
tugging from the mean
jostled into and from
the ever cyclic whirlpool

binary
dichotomous
either or

"Walking in Rhythm" aka "Sould"

the flux of overwhelming audiences
All warble in disappointment
to the murmur of another odious love poem

hollow
I am many

rarely do I feel the norm of me
whatever that is
wherever that may be

this is not my journey
it is that of Many
and "I", or the recollections there of, am rapidly fading

perception
sutured with constructed hints
venally grasping toward purpose

watching the workings at a distance
experiencing the tumultuous veering
while drowning in welled up
great salt lakes

vacant and vapid
clutching to the echoes
the tidbits of magnetism
and the conundrum

all sputtering the incantations of naiveté's sting

"left... empty...ready to be filled again"

wrapped

This is not the time for this
careful with your moments
ticks the talk of all

focus
this is the edge dear heart
this is where all will come crashing down in flit and folly

nose to the grindstone

will you do what is necessary for this to burgeon
or are you left in the sheer
coated in thick wisps of nothing

oh yeah,
    everything

left wretched of nagging circumstances
common relating
common judgement
the norm of it all

here
yes, here

and i wonder what could possibly be next