***** fingers
hold dirtier habits.
Back track, of course it would
be the same outcome.
Deaf ears, the usual.
Butterfly ***** its wings in some
time, space, symmetrical shift,
and my life’s still ****.
Give me truth like a belly laugh:
undeniable, and exactly what I needed. Fixing broken parts with forgotten arts. Always forget how it starts and fear
the way it may end.
What if the work I put in isn’t enough?
Where will I be then?

~kb