• I fell into my falling
    Of whispers I could not hear
    As they spun into me unfelt
    For their innuendos
    Of words unfound.
    Silently mistreated
    By these mouths pasted shut
    And I continued falling
    Into my apathy.

    I sang into my mourning.
    It was such a cheerful sound
    That hid itself
    Between lines on crumbled parchment
    Tossed into a corner
    Where I refused to stand
    In acceptance of contemplation
    Of these words left jumbled making
    Sense of everything.

    Sadly for those
    That would be left by me
    Cheerfully
    I could not halt my fell,
    Crushing porcelain dolls
    All dressed
    In fine lingerie.
    Sadly as I smiled
    I lit the piles
    Dressed casually in my corners
    And let the soft silk hauntings
    Burn
    Away from my fingers.

    Do you believe me as I write this?
    The lies I planted on my forehead
    Were in some sense
    But a matter of truth to yet
    Be defined
    Within their own
    Definitions.
    And the innuendos?
    Were but explanations
    As to why
    The heels were planted,
    Growing in my eyes,
    Suckling on esteem.