it's just that ******* tap tap tapping but away it goes up and down, up and down the rows of violets and tulips. and she had two lips and violence violent love and hate crimes against humanity, if there was ever any left up and down, up and down the rows of streets and cars the lines and scars etched in his skin but there's nothing like a bottle of gin numb around the edges, the seams because everything is ever as it seems and they just let it keep running up and down, up and down the strands leaving marks like brands to sell the weave, the inches, the criss-crossed and sashayed and she has one because it never looked to be as long as she would like it as long as they would ask for, and the years go on so the tears flow on growing longer, and taller up and down, up and down the walls of granite and moss just one quick toss over the edge because maybe humpty dumpty had it right. nobody can piece that one together like it's some big puzzle just twigs and grass, make up the *** that he wanted to be getting nothing that he wanted because he never asked called or scrawled, just pushing, screaming up and down, up and down the floor of hardwood and paces like jacks and aces handed out to those who had them, no reward or achievement it's own gift of life, and sometimes it's longer than you wanted while crawling hands and knees to pick up your ****** fingertips along the edges of cards, because it's going to be okay. because it will always be.