I fill my days with pointless clutter,
                                   bits and bobs, and nevertheless,
My head alive with constant flutter,
                                    (marring softly to surpress)
Is still in streaks of wonders utter,
                                     breathing, blinking and even less,
Plighted to a world another,
                                     a starving corner he cannot bless

I often feel as if there is a dark glimmering
buckle of barbed wire whirling round my gut.
It tightens with time, clawing, shrinking into me.

If I were to remain here, will agony prevail?
Roped up from the subtle notes inbetween
                                 -the simplicity I crave.

And even yet, or sometimes never, will my core crumle if I take it off.

I float on the heaviness of such decisions. Burying the scarring with fabric, the occasional smile, single scratchy laughs.

A hell-belt, or a hug?

*******, or protected?

A posing branch pointing sophistication
through a bark of whispered peace. A
pokcet of mute jingling daisys curling
melodicaly in the breth of gentle air.
And a shallow pool of clarity, shining like
broken crystal under the watchful glow of the sky.

This is where our loved ones go,
     this is where they sleep.
Only to awaken as smiling robins on
lonely winter mornings to melt the
              cover of cold