Trinkets.

My heart:
as sore,
as it be,
continues to tick…
how does it
keep beating?
how am I
still breathing? –
so certain
of the death,
was I,
ready at last
to lay down
and just die…
accepting of,
a fraudulent,
offspring,
sprung from,
this…
deep-rooted
tree.
So tired,
became,
my line of,
vision…
so blurry,
so blinded by,
that which,
only I,
can somehow,
still perceive…
vividly,
with clarity –
it’s no figment,
belonging,
to insanity;
call to arms,
let loose:
curses and,
good-luck charms,
there’s a Rabbit,
in the sticks out there:
tromping through,
the woods, somewhere…
and on his key-ring,
he’s hung,
the damndest thing:
A freeze-dried human arm.

Wrapped Up.

When you keep being knocked by the force of the wind,
it’s your real Mother telling you to just let up, and lean in;
and when the days seem to fail to let to let the sunlight brighten,
it’s your own mind’s moonshine that is keeping things dim;
so while the people around you let everything die that they tend,
it’s the whisper of freedom reminding you of your own salvation;
while the snakes pass on their’ venom to the ones they’ve bitten,
it’s your own callousness that creates the protection of your skin;
those nights you were wondering where the Hell I might have been,
just know I wasn’t with you because I can’t always pretend;
when your hands are shaking badly and you can’t get hold of them,
it’s because Lady Karma’s come to teach you another lesson;
when you fail to recognize the fault in your own disposition,
just know that it will be beaten into your essence until it blends;
that there is no way to escape all of this Life’s toughest decisions,
to try to do so only creates a much more lasting ultimatum;
when the world is kicking your ass in front of your friends,
you begin to wonder if you can ever face any of them again;
the odds are stacked against you worse than they have ever been,
do not look to me to glue your eggshell back together, my friend.