Also Mutants

Secret Chimney

7-9-17

Some days it's hard to tell
which way the air flows.
I'm brittle and lazily focused;
I suppose I could just as well
go either way, breathing ribbons
of anonymously vacant content
meant to disturb then settle.
Asking for nothing; receiving
pacts of consistent partial
relevance in return.
The house is bleeding fire
and all I can do is stare
at the scene wondering
how I got here and why
I'm not the relief I claim to be.
Might just be my delusion-
my symphony of construction
humming broken bars of hollowed notes
while dancing in place to the
calming notion that sometimes
my best company is myself.
It's not so lonely at the top
when you don't know you're there
and the glass house
is inhabited by ash-flecked dreams
and ill-timed memories.