the paper skate and the lopsided assumption

the paper skate proved an adequate instrument for gaining balance

to throw overboard all nimble embellishments in favour of wrestling with the very pottery of my substance

and for a second, time twitched into neutral
taking no part unless flitting from clue to clew

when a widespread oddity leads a convoy through the dust of ages, a profuse aftermath, fully-fledged by fitful regeneration, dances with a bowled over turnout

a donor of intensity
populates this dome
watering slim chances down to scanty superficiality followed up by a twist of the symbolic arm

unaccustomed as I am to lasting impressions
forget me, lose sight of me

this won’t hamper waterlogging
at a time when a bandage is nothing to boast about
the brain never fancies itself thoughtless
taking any vow up for grabs
with the contempt that organs have for ‘I’
mutiny is but a habit away

earmarked as, or endangered as a safe house is
even tunnel vision must end in the suction consistent with loggerheads

neutralizing the nonessential
a quandary never misses its target
as we liken all clashes
to making no interchangeable sign or conclusion to buck up

the merciless treadmill of a field day
bowling hosannahs at the pessimist
sitting pretty at the best of times
with irksome pastoral distress
stricken by cloud nine
running amok with the nest-egg

dirt-cheap as zero,
there is a way of paying in advance for pittance

and the well-lined resolution
is a parasite to my amends

in the waking of sleeping dogs
there are no sides to take
just some laurels and an eye…

as a disused ploy, it works well
to get the best out of
or to throw off the scent
which is technically the way everyone goes at some time or another

weighted down with sinkage
no brittle set-up sustained can shelve oxygen for better days
an air-conditioned composure upheld, feels remarkably stuffy

any undulation excites my inner-hitman
who condemns another autopsy
anaesthetic against fragility
and prays for a low turn-out of the senses

in this stupor the give away is gooseflesh
biting into the touchpaper that lights anti-freeze

and I may render myself a silhouette
blacked out
understanding extinguished
by living in a hall of mirrors

but let’s not draw attention
rather keep a lookout for witnesses to a pinch of salt, as much is supposed to be taken with

and flummox the choreographer by not sticking to the point
I wouldn’t be caught dead eating my words

let alone sniff at those throw away lines
like a makeshift conversation, which always turns out to be only with myself, an ad hoc addiction

after all I have to protect my red-herring

it’s not difficult to follow a scent
avoiding snares that resemble an emotional breadline

some measly, some crummy faultlessness bears no relation to how it is

a deodorized zenith wouldn’t mop up the slightest puddle in eden
just nip and tuck away the hoax

the drifter's only stunt is removing sand from eyes
and striking out for a dead-end

treating hindrance as a convenient obstruction
and unbalancing any lopsided assumptions