Within

I sense a struggle: it lingers near: a saint and dragon; and
Something dies: a cringe and flow; and Aum struggles to
Breathe. I pause and pace, and pace and pause; and flit and
Fret, and fret and flit. Anger lives, and anger dies; but something

Creeps: a harsh hello; and something blinks: a privy portal.
And time is cold: a push afar; and so to pause: an act of mind;
And fey to rise—a subtle flame: a private life—a cryptic name.
We die to live – and envy life—and something burns—a lover’s

Knife; and heart to life—a daily web: a morbid thought: a privy
Ebb; and smile and dance, and dance and smile—but all the
While—a vicious prowl; and thus a tear—the deepest volt:
A dream to love: a screaming cult; and stuff to mind—the mind
Of stuff: a feeling grey—a moral scuff; and fate to turn—the
Turn of fate: a pulse to burn: a soul to skate.