I itch and wretch behind crystal glass
In chains of my own making
Hiding, waiting for Inspiration
To bail me out of my aching--
Flaming drumbeats of human impact
The dramatic need for fall and change
Call for the gleaming guillotine
The sudden, clean clip... Snip!
I finally then saw after a bloody mess
How it was supposed to be
In nature's recoil, the balancing and shifting
Rebuilding, and then growing ten heads.
I'm only tending, my heart is a drumming
Mere moments of synchronous humming
With no bars to speak of, no other side, and
With no one to the rescue. I sit and stretch.