Looming

Write.
Write to rid myself
Rid myself of the moat
Separating my means to the end.

Sloshing about in the knee-deep defecation
As though the putrefaction were slipping in at my gills.
Fish-like: blurring about in blubbering nonsense.
Swatting my fanned out tail, the glint of which these scales- reflects only fog

Plunged in at the chest, driven hard - at random
My lack of precision with regard to hunting that elusive 'stud' in the wall
Backfires... backfires constantly... back-loaded and shot-out backwards
Into my face; my sensitive neck; my heart that blares in accordance with necessity

I am blown
Heavy, hole-wide
A wind tunnel of ramifications
Cornering my 'all over the place' existence.

I am strong.
I am hard.
I am unblinking
Even when the inside wore shrapnel like jewelry

I am getting through, I am getting through this-
Backed by every innuendo that declares a stout 'fuck off'
To any that blow hints of their judgement
Into my acutely aware instincts.

I read the ques
I smell the wafting murmers
I see the wagging tongues
Long after my back left the room.

I am strong.
Able to sustain wind, first-born from the mountain
The sharp, shrill, teeth-cutting variety
That dances vigorously, laughing in the wake of my dedicated vulnerability.

Come one, come all; for I come too
I come to this place
Where hope marries virtue
And mirth brands itself to my chin

A chin held high, tilted, tilted up into the sun
To absorb the vitamin of life
And consoled once more by the softness I harbor
Even while the core is sandblasted by looming defeat.