Stirring the brew,
Breathing the fog,
Cooking tomorrow,
With a great deal of slog.
Boiling and poaching
A raw, shellless existence.
Percolating my prospects,
With erratic persistence.

Talking,
The walls have no ears.
Smiling, winking, flirting, kicking
Only my silhouette peers.
Screaming,
No heart to shed no tears.
So, talking to myself,
I have been for years.

Wall one for my pictures.
Wall two for my words.
Wall three for my structure.
Wall four for my hoards.
Wall one for my times.
Wall two for my space.
Wall three for my dimes.
Wall four for my pace.
Wall one is falling.
Wall two coming loose.
Wall three is squalling.
Wall four for my noose.

Early morning,
Late night.
Morning,
Late, late night.
Noonish,
Early, early morning.
Evening,
Morning.
Sleeping circles.

Black and white tomb.
Anamorphic face.
Indistinct frame.
Abandoned my womb.
Quit without a trace.
Leaving me in shame

My **** is lacking juvenescence.
Outsourcing hormones,
Injecting youth.
Youth comes with puberty.
Reliving puberty,
In a mean body,
With a middle age mind.

I feel my petals drop,
Slowly on the ground.
Leaving voids, emptiness.
Leaving me undone.
Bare.
Barren.
Unsound.