things one thought
I.
Children walk on crutches
Sticks upon their hands
You labor in your sorrows
You lost your frying pan
You sleep into the noon hour awaiting your nail and shower hour
Children walk upon sticks
Your indulgences make me sick

II.
Death upon life I would soon be free
Of all that I have given you you licked me carefree
The most intimate of my treasures you soiled these of mine
I am left but a cripple yet I still walk 
I amble somehow 
May I ever be free of thy evil power

III.
I live in a fantasy world more than in time
Of my daily routines I mimic, I am my own mime 
Sailing back and forth from duties and dreams
I leave a curious trail an arrhythmic rhyme