DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I-IV-'22:

on that table
four arms shook, double faking the illusion she stable
or is it a matter of strive to be crippled, disabled?
a hold on for the called dear life, inhibit the verb able?
yet life is not the content it holds in a cable
otherwise a single stumble would be fatal
& them feels embraced
are all the things that you shall face
on that table
struggling to bare the meaning it labels
but for the mind of mine
reasoning a reason is not a define
yet the feel in the moment it roots for it fills
& like a child & like a breath after her ****
despite papers scattered upon seals of nature
some lines stand up to nurture that wooden creature

                                                       ­                                 --------ravenfeels