the pouring

I do things that do not do me well

I walk on paths that I know will end 

I look in the pool and see my reflection but that's not my face

tipping me over and pouring me out, there is water and vinegar, wine and gasoline

and the words dripping from my mouth, they are mixed, frothing and bubbling out

and the way you walk about, it mystifies me 

and in this mix of sadness and light, I found an angel that flies me through this plight

as hard as I try to break her wings, she seems to keep carrying me

and once my vessel seems empty, I find that she is ready to fill me with life yet again