A smokey cave of gratitude,
a noose of obligation.
Stairs and stares,
this is my winter.
My rusty pen struggling
under months of apathy
but I cannot be condemned,
being newly resurrected.
Hints and insinuations
heavy the air
between perceptions and personalities.
Eggshells are walked upon,
tongues are bitten,
and the ownness lands in my lap
and purrs in the shape of a cat.
I've never been so free and stuck.
I cannot win and cannot fail,
mercifully mired.
Poetry, Rants, Expressions, Stories both fictional and non-fiction, and otherwise worthy collections of words.
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