Envy is all that I hold

 

So easily you hurt

So readily I accept my own pain

Fascinated with your spells that you weave

I can merely shout, unheard

You have a dagger, no, a sword

You readily cut out your own heart

And tidily place it back into your chest cavity

 

Smooth and direct swapping spit for writ

A book you lay before all

A hint of fruit, smokey not long held from an aged whiskied barrel

A complicated merlot swathed around many souls

Your thoughts laid out similar to a concrete sidewalk, defined, cracking and cold

Yet we are all drawn to this meandering myth, mirth and substance

Guided by are own lack of pointless wills and soul

 

Just don’t shout at me for my lack of understanding

Or my unwillingness to fall out of my hole

I can and will stand out and behind any, all

My conscience says aloud I should cherish these two inches of air around me

Holding out my outstretched arms, fingers to my hands, unfold

So simple I am

Envy is all that I hold

 

 

Gary A. Glasser (pycpoet) 03/03/08