Braffle

Chanting never seemed so big
so precarious
so wonderous and vaguely
satisfying.

ranting and praying and crying.
I have a dark spot on my eye
my eyes my screens
my rain in may.

trickle
I never loosened my grip
my touch with a cold reality
my temper with a hard edge.

trickle
I never watched the lights go
out
the curtains close
the view skewed. screwed.

trickle
I wilted like a bud and
struggled like a dying bird.
I kicked my feet and bled out.

I never clapped a down-pour
on the back and sang like I
meant it.
I think so little so much.
I breathe like a tempest and
shoulder my way through.
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200th post.