fly fixtures flutter with finesse as flutes play bach and i sink in the mist, a haze set dawn with no clothes and a song wishing there was a place i could stare long and lose myself in the taste of your breath, its nothingness. and when you say the thinking is done could my son listen and play along to forgotten tools of yesterday’s waltz a place I know is generations of fault.

i smelled it and brought myself back to treasure chest wishes, responsibilities and dishes a torture chamber he made to reclaim shame and the path he wore to find you there knowing you’re anxiety would only bare a slip in your armor, a chink, a chance, to slice you open, leave you once more, that’s romance. a sacrifice, your death, while violins play. it wasn’t scary. you smiled the whole time. cease to exist to understand this rhyme. i decided to stop observing that blade of grass, climbed a tree, fell asleep fast to wake underneath without reason or care this is for me. shaded by the shadows of you all hanging above the ones who make the masks i’ve come to rely on facades in time don’t peal them off pile them i won, when the mount is complete, i’ll be gone.