a set of intense statuses, given
I thought we had simply glanced it
we are a brush fire, consuming days
screaming in braille with a sense of must
in untangling strewn bangles
addressing unfair symptoms
bearing branches instead of gracefulness
imposed a bit of patience
well met intentions growing swollen and red
in arrangements of parasitic mirrorings
faces of attachment for vagrants
twin retainment, co-invested in a growing trench
indecision growing brittle in a ribbed cage
at least we contest it, burning fiefs of similes
in the kingdom of predetermination
all we seem to spurn are attempts to disarrange it
dancing with the wreckage.