.... treat myself to a little dare,

make it as though love were never even there,

none compassion resolves mine stare;

incentive brings culminated angst t'wards violent snap,

feed richly: wilder things what may be left from dearest scraps,

hurl emotive banter with hardening slaps,

right on that squatted bubble crack –

Lies falter quicker than shrunken tussle bag;

Say conscious has been doing some solemn thinking,

views half partial by pupils' damp blinking;

Yet: honesty fails to breathe at core,

know meaning of what heart implores,

that door....

for which hands quiver a reaching  for –

best not be mine those peevish fingers are hitting anymore;

what was once regal; brittle: mind lacks,

gonna kick your deliberate crass, attempting an inch; an intending swift come back.

q۱9