• I fell into my falling
    Of whispers I could not hear
    As they spun into me unfelt
    For their innuendos
    Of words unfound.
    Silently mistreated
    By these mouths pasted shut
    And I continued falling
    Into my apathy.

    I sang into my mourning.
    It was such a cheerful sound
    That hid itself
    Between lines on crumbled parchment
    Tossed into a corner
    Where I refused to stand
    In acceptance of contemplation
    Of these words left jumbled making
    Sense of everything.

    Sadly for those
    That would be left by me
    I could not halt my fell,
    Crushing porcelain dolls
    All dressed
    In fine lingerie.
    Sadly as I smiled
    I lit the piles
    Dressed casually in my corners
    And let the soft silk hauntings
    Away from my fingers.

    Do you believe me as I write this?
    The lies I planted on my forehead
    Were in some sense
    But a matter of truth to yet
    Be defined
    Within their own
    And the innuendos?
    Were but explanations
    As to why
    The heels were planted,
    Growing in my eyes,
    Suckling on esteem.