Satired attempt of release. I give in.  I fall. . .
Still uncertain of radical advances in spirit: society’s breached birth of the familiar
Bound and gagged, clung electrical beauty transpired in beads of the dis-pristine

I unravel.  I create. Torn from all known peace in chaotic slumber; I am preserved.
*****.  My sonata spent like the lost cries enveloped in simplicity.
And it cries.
It cries for what it doesn’t know or understand
A seizured wall of insecurity left blind to the rest,
and sometimes infurity.
*****. Held. It smiles for now,
Wondering what comes next.