a smattering of feeling
sputtering, teetering
a feeble hair
held back by leather
a blood feather
smothered unceremoniously
by cobwebs of rusty chains
forged in the Ionian sea
these are my growing pains
at least, theoretically
going by Aristotlean philosophy
my nature is me
im running out of air to breathe
in my coccoon of excuses
ripe with trite ruses
im beginning to see
and seethe
but im wielding moist flint
both arms in a splint
have you an unvoiced hint?
hoist me a print
stating: step 1
stiff upper lip
step 2
uppercut, stiff-arm, flush on the lip
of your own shadow
ive tinted my window
as i squint
a blossom-bearing black sedan
beckons
from my pore a quill emerges
i'm crashing churches
smoking out a second heaven
riding out these surging urges
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