Shaking I stand
An unstable bundle of loose layers from the wintertime
Raining as it is I stay still and fall like a child with a leg stung by a bee
A ball on the ground crying and shouting as if I were two or three

Alone I lay
An attack goes on and I'm picked up by shadows of flesh and blood
Limp as freshly picked bones and as a paralyzed bug in a spider web
Speaking softly into a chest spewing words of ash and melancholy