compositionally unsound

Slip by, the days they do, filmstrip frames
on which i pace, pause, retinally--this i never would have seen,
ever underrun with the waifly demons' thorn claws
scratching flaking peeling 

away

And i am less, left razor-streaked with distraction.

Paramours and reveries scumble across the barren surface
only to parch the roots beneath
that cares cannot
quench,
though i thickly thirst to be slathered
peers blended together so vibrantly smooth
their hands like outward leaves brushing each other tenderly
but you and i, we are as close as oil in water

Tendrils in the dark yearn
for sunlight separated from them only by the crisp tension noir
that surrounded them yesterday,
the day before,
and the day before that.
No sense in trying to understand how to avoid recoil from the corners
or escape the opacity;
it's a futile circuity
because the boundary fates a slow, yellowed end.

Origin peeks through--
a relentless memoir too heavy to reposition
a psyche too harrowed year upon year to polish.
With no balance and no peace,
one's will becomes unreparably withered.

Unheard unrested

I rasp and rasp for slumberous solitary repose