Curiouser and Curiouser

I would drift

Stumble from this edge to that

I would twist

Between the pages of the unrequited

I would break

From deep breaths to short choking sounds

I would STOP

And what would remain

For if I disconnect and neglect the sects that intersect

The cords of tight'ning steel that bind my wrists and ankles

To interrupt the flow of blood to my waving hands

to my running feet

to my discontentment

To mute my mouth and muffle my malcontented mind

And find these binds themselves to be of blind bereavement

Search and lie of the joy they find in achievement

To die, to tie that final knot

To live, to loosen every noose

To hope, to stretch out to the edge

To love, to not come back again

If I drift

Would you let me stumble back again

If I twist

Would you turn the page and read me home

I would break

Would you sweep these pieces up within your encircling arms

I would STOP

Blissful to remain as yet so shattered, as if nothing else mattered

as if all that was and is and could be was the most absurd of insane things

six impossible things

(all before breakfast)

and every one of them looking just like you