Cut Ties
No one will be saved. No one will be spared. When fist grab handfuls of dangerous words. Thistles and weeds strewn through her hair like clouds and birds. What joy we seek when we are hardly or steadily balancing on our feet. I will sacrifice sleep for sanity. I will sacrifice envy for joy. I will rid myself of a great many misgivings. I will strip myself of a great many toys. I guess I'll do things like I always do them; by force. And yet I can't seem to plot a steady course. Unless it is changing the of course of course. If it is possible I would do everything by sheer force of will. That's the only way I could account for anything that seems like I've exhibited a lack of skill. Like the words that flow from my mouth, my pen, my fingers, my quill; I can't think of a better way to convey my keen will. Two fists for focus, two fists for a ruckus. To fists for a fight and two fists for a fight. Two fists for luck. I find myself living in two fists over in my cups. I wonder what it would be like if I couldn't fix a point. I'll do my singsong voice and I'll make a choice. I'll do what I have to do to get what I want. I mistakenly speak with the authority to grant so many wishes. I let my tongue slip and we're back breaking dishes. I'm walking on egg shells here and I'm trying not to. I'm living in borrowed time and I'm trying to cut loose.