Wire Walker

October 22, 2020

There’s the tightrope for you to walk, wire walker — defying the gravity of reality and the reality of gravity you know damn well he won't catch you when you fall as your sticky grip on the star’s razor edge slips back away from the black back-alley - use the street’s angles and curves to your advantage run! from the rouse of his lure as the lore is as sordid as it is euphoric - ruined as you are by the ruse of his rune fade to disappearance with distance ride the rift of spindrift; a smoke screen as if you were never here but the territorial she-wolf knows… she dreams of pouring rain pooling on a blurry beach though she may choose not to open sand-puddled eyes intuition is not blind and instincts are hackled — for she’s downwind of dual deception and her elegant nose is one with the yellow-rose winds her howls now haunt your hurricane passion’s kite - once blissfully lost in windy swagger brash in its stellar flash amidst a hazy starlit pinwheel - has returned a stormy petrel dark and hovering over self-inflicted wounds feeding on strife — incised by the rapier side-eye of your conscience you seek to stem the red flow of guilt washing up in waves knowing you can’t dye scarlet heartbeats white there’s the tightrope for you to walk, wire walker; the bloodline — that which binds a sinful sister’s envies to the sinless sister and divides loaves of husband-lies for the bronze bloodless sinner.