for those readers
of the word of the day.

for those obsessively trying to climb over the trench
that confines the most low self esteem,
to be dragged lower by the next coup de etat
a ruse set by demons
******….
to be aroused by demons….

The leaking turned screaming at the back of the eyelids that
open,
and over sharpen the light.
if one could always see that tattoo that you stained into the oblique
in that prolonged moment of prowess
you told them to place
‘pain is but a creation of the mind.’

in trying to find air between
sobs you will  find that, this may be the best time to
fail.

for you
who wants to improve so bad,
aspire to fail.
whip the Clydesdale on the blinders that have your morphic cycle
**** out of luck, and foolstruck
by a rut.

close your mouth,
and open your ears…
listen for that whistling
can’t you hear it
coming from the breeze that was started
when that door was shut in your face and the window became an opportune
ESCAPE.


Oh, how just breathing has become an escape
for me
though every second a hilarious shot at my wee existence,
and my peers take peeks at their phones
and google
for brains

and I,
stand at the peak
with one foot already convicted to a leap
wondering what will save one more sole

i wonder
if they would take deep breathes between cries
pull their neck back for a rest
and continually search for the remnant of that release
and find it again.