and I mean to create a story:
softly but not kept tight
book bound at night under candlelight
hands quivering as they hover over each page
and I meant to create a story:
that shuffled each length of every parable and allegory
philosophers gazing in every pore and hole,
minds swimming in worry
termites burrowing through the sea,
white pages blooming into me
and I created a story:
nothing for others to see
full of holes and spots and too many
unsiphoned, unending untruths in each seam
words flowing over and out of my hands
trepidation shutting it closed
putting it back underhand