skin split and spilt 
original sin as the flowers wilt 
and innocence was just a season
lost to time 
molted and castaway on a raft 
with riffraff and 
single serving friends 
(those sweet summer children)

and what was I 
but to bear the bolts of anchorage
bereft of the warmer tides that came before: 
a rusting high water line, to be sure. 

bracing, of soul and spirit-pillars 
ben...

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home-cooked hope 
stinging slums 
like jump-rope:
Anklebreaker. 

blue-nosed slumber 
deafening snores 
restless as lumber 
Cartoon tides. 

Platform tithing
wavering faith
in the idleness of blinking LEDs
House arrest.

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