may crosses the threshold;

still  in place despite being shaken,

things dangling in a state of shock, matters frenzied.

all i could do is stare at its tail ends, its ides, its roots, fiendish.



time is a quicksand, it has taught.

the month’s chasm i find myself suspended in,

as only half and in a room hellish, four corners built precariously

pent up dread *******.



breathe in breathe out



may leaves,

a sigh of only minimum relief