Balancing this cup standing in line 

it’s you who will see a mark less benign the lateral move to get away from a mistake i made while falling in the shade of an oak where i sat and spoke to a crowd of sparrows who knew to take notes this important transition i find myself in is guiding me to repeat a final sin dragging with me next of kin you’re the sad weasel who forgets hearts and modes are less than profound stop thinking and start reacting to people who don’t want you to hear.use words more judicially. you shackled my senses with stammering hope gulping the fire and creating smoke.