I followed the black rivulets down my nail beds and into my chest,

scraped them into glistening oil and leaned my head back while it dripped

ground wine into my cerebellum

that’s what control’s balance

wire-tight I tread on Niagara


 how soft it looks

You are a cat and I am a ball of string that keeps trying to wind itself up

look at my unraveling doesn’t it look so tidy

like tides pulling at geometric shores

profaned nature – that is what every human is

I am every human

their silent voices staring from lowered glances reverberating in my ensconced oil drum of a nutcase

encased in glass I wander

wondering at the splendor we have wrought

towers rising high to pierce the night

black dribbling down their antennae

drop by drop they balance perfectly tip-toe on the sidewalk

silent night updating status and glancing at the profane

cognizant and unknowing

I let them all drip into me

It keeps me balanced


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