Rutflare


Knocked off the beam,

fallen off the path,

back into bed,

back in the bath.


Imbalanced is the rhyme.

Ticking is the time,

swallowed is the grime,

and I linger on in line...


Cut are the ties that chase.

Fallen from grace in haste,

it's hard to get back up

when your arms are weak -

It's rough.


And the being's keeping

a tab,

the longer drawn out

the more drab,

the more 

it is

like bait

'til it chomps

and says,

"Too late!" 


I was in the air!

But now I'm in

"rutflare.”

Get me out of here!

Get me out of there...


2015

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