doubt, creeping, even in the impervious.

doubt, creeping, even in the impervious.

rattling;;
If I am so impervious
if my armor so impeccable
the unmitigated gate of my plate
the glimmer blinds others in the sun,
then the words of said others
shall have no quarter here;
whisper mills-
gin mills-
water talk,
should then not bother me
like this at all-
rattling;;

notes: I am generally one to not care about the words of others, I pride myself that way, I present myself that way, but I suppose not the most stout fort has a fault, or a weakness, sometimes, the words seep in, like poison, like reason, and I am as much as human as all… even if I pretend to hold myself above it all…

seconds… how they slip.

seconds… how they slip.

seconds are the hardest to hold,
I imagine-
I recall the summer now

how soon, how soon the world returns
to cold, and how soon this becomes
the now,
pied’ down the road
by the song of blinding time
sunset, sunrise
routine and more breaths spell towards my end
I inhale all the life
that was before me

and exhale just,
time and again
my heart beats
the particles of time march, march, march on
I can not discern the flow
as much as drown
even with my head above the water
matters not
I am no captain here
no stowaway
no cavalier
a passenger or a cog perhaps
nothing more
but aware

notes… I was just looking out the window at work and wrote this as is… a few mods here and there but pretty much this, I consider this kind of observational poetry or even stream I suppose, it ain’t prose.. that’s for sure, but this is the way my mind shaves hairs.. so… here it is… for all to bare…