morph me

stiff neck like
a crane

arching
and holding
a place
support in a huge
way

for itself
and all things around
it

me

now to de-stiffen
melt
into myself

only the form
i take is foreign
and needs
parameters
and outline to
follow

i bleed out
of every line
i see

morphing

on and on

practice and purpose
compliment
one another

complascence
tricks them both

and here i
sit with a tummy
full of gas
and a storm rumbling
outside my window

my world
a series of insides
and outs

wondering
where and how
i am going to
grasp for my next
goal.

fulfillment seems
a neverending
story...

eviction

i think sometimes
that my life is at stake
the faces you make
the cancer within
you and our thing
fling

emotions and words
painful
then helpful
then gone
only to resurface
muddy and familiar

the process is hard
and i wrap myself
in it: a cardboard blanket
the edges soften,
but it's inherent nature
remains
stiff and sordid

is the underlying issue
a textural satire?
a sexual condundrum?
CONtextual disaster?
or a just plain mental enigma?

my home is in my head.
and i think i am evicting
myself.

diseased

the disaster
and tragedy that
piles up
like bodies
and debris
and spirits
crushed
dams down
flooding flushing
out and away

our topography
our way of life
reversed
cursed?

we must reevaluate
we must look within
we must stop band-aiding

and dig deeper
than the trenches
filled with the victims
of the symptoms

get way down inside
each of us,
pick a hole
look for the whole

to the
sources of this
planet's hurt and pain
feign a sense of
something other than
ME ME ME.

diseased...
are we too late?