something i've awaken to recently.
too many exits and not enough flee in me.
too many words about the wither and weakening.
found death in love and a blank canvas shivering.
cold in the clutch from a calloused tip softening.
birth death to birth apartment 5 is the offering.
something old i've come to appreciate.
the exits left from the holes i used to create.
bodies piled 6 feet high in a bastard's wake.
next morning fathered and fed with grace and for mercy's sake.
put boots to feet and press on to embrace mistakes.
next mornings exits are familiar and involve the shakes.
i'll quote myself for the still sick and say
"everyone's an enemy including you including me"
