Today already was, as blood
bangs what is--a man in a
pair of shoes.
Whose ends of the earth begin
again, by all manner of movement.
Happening upon, and to himself--
at a rate of frequency that cannot
be denied by anything but escape.
So he holds himself to create a
support system, one that clenches
an ache hard enough to rupture.
Blurring all the bizarre lines drawn,
by shifty industriousness.
Sometimes it comes up to his eyes, and
hangs on for dear life before it falls.
Severely scolded by fortitude.