i would hate to be built a brick wall
linear as immovable constants
and the wristwatch hands i fear

weave me around callouses
like a spring, double helix,
and i will shrug in content

nucleotides formed of consciousness
hydrogen and karmic bonds together
jacob's ladder extending to liberation

and sincerity for all the moments
i was missing from the jigsaw tangle
of pillows and down and sprawl

i cannot gap
the necessary bridges
or bridge the scorched landscapes
or burn whatever is left of the people in my heart,
for the accusation of turning dirt with heel
each time one is overwhelmed
has little more stock
than discourse laid down
in the glass reflection
of the narcissus;
altruism with motive.

red-breasted and sandy curls,
her power lies in her name,
as does the validity of this veil
softened in soaps and silk
in the washroom tucked
away beneath my molars
so as to never say
the unacceptable(all of it)

i started writing this with a lot to say
and now all i can imagine saying (facetoface)
is that i'm so terribly sorry the only way
you chose to deal with your progression
was to progressively think for yourself
the more others thought for you,
and good tidings on rivertides
will be the last things to draw
you back in discovery of them
and how they have figured out you fill the quota to the brim
on your own,
without fail

a)  i am the mortar incurring blow after blow
     from the abrasive quality of your negligence.
      no, i am herb between pestle and mortar
      the full realization of 'rock and a hard place'

b)  i am the mortar between each brick you lay,
     in blue collar glory, or rock star slumming,
     to bind shaky corridors of past serenity
     and bear indiscretions on my limestone shoulders

c)  i am the mortar you fire before crawling under covers
     for inexpensive *** and trashier beer
     by a lake on a camping trip where tents trump love
     like the queen of spades in a hand of hearts
      
d)  in fact, these are false, merely possibilities --
     actuality: you were never enough
      to make me spew homonyms in metaphor
      because you were nothing like them,
      always appearing changed but monotonous in meaning,
      and if you're so into contraposition,
      are we not but names for each other?