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Too Late
Heavy hands dance accross my back
Reasons unknown, the lack-of becoming sport
Twisted and tied, my core purges itself of the suspected culprit
Coverings once embracing, now loosely dissociate
Soon, none to be left but a raw, defenseless frame
Frames are of strength, support or a window for the eyes to the soul of something
Nothing left to fight, to bite,...with nothing left to like
The frame bends and falters,..surrendering to the gravity of the space
I fall away from myself, being the hollow,..the negative space left when something is gone
To remember it, miss its presence; maybe even feel where it has been
Honest eyes throw death in your face
Unsuspectingly,..you choke on reality a moment too late.
Nice Lines In Here
Meandering around ideas, hmmmm... ~A~