Admit I am the millstone | 1 |
noosed | 2 |
around your neck, | 3 |
the anchor flukes that | 4 |
grip you as you | 5 |
sink | 6 |
down | 7 |
deep | 8 |
drowning in a dark garroting grave; | 9 |
while ten feeble torpid groping fingers stretch for | 10 |
surface, | 11 |
spots spread your field of vision like so many | 12 |
motes of dust in rays of light astream through | 13 |
open windows in an | 14 |
unlit room, | 15 |
ensnared by sunlight’s piercing finite wedges. | 16 |
| |
Admit I am a nuisance, | 17 |
a muddling opalescent menace in your smushed up heart, | 18 |
capable of comforting a | 19 |
friend | 20 |
and nothing more, | 21 |
maybe from the start, | 22 |
the oil to the rusty joints (now sticking to your hands), | 23 |
a mouth-to-mouth resuscitating pal who’s overstayed his part. | 24 |
| |
Admit I gave you unexpected purchase from your | 25 |
tumble | 26 |
stumble | 27 |
fall from grace, | 28 |
and now you’re on your feet again and looking down | 29 |
far down | 30 |
at grasping quicksand hands below that | 31 |
pull and | 32 |
pull and all you want to do is kick and scream for | 33 |
freedom. | 34 |
| |
Admit you hooked your | 35 |
flesh in mine, | 36 |
Admit you had your motives; | 37 |
Admit it’s all so preciously ironic that I won’t | 38 |
let | 39 |
go! | 40 |