shell game / frontman

not handwriting
or words between
or wet shadows or
a touch on dark clothing

choose melting surfaces to mate and
rawfeel elements to carry
slower and delicate downwards like
an ache

grows

in rooms that were never mine
mashed together like remnants of
thoughtless consumption

the only thing between sweet pure
heart and madness and
the bitter end an incalculable puddle
of time culpable and

i shift the scraps that once held my
name or names
and it is all a hastily assembled
bit of 3-card for
passersby or
i

swear i've had my moments
me hero
me bold or sharpened
dancing all the right moves
me invisible
me shutting my damn mouth
me opening it to say the right thing
me correct
me heeding my own warnings
learning a bit of guitar or some scales

but i've mostly stammered while
strumming shit luck like an
instrument of vines

only writing it down
when i can't remember the words