You’re Next

by on December 6, 2012 :: 0 comments

Tip-toe across the ceiling
of what I am doing
but do not speak
or breathe a whisper,
let me to my devilment.

Stay still, while I play
watch, while I control
envy my chuckles
gasp at my cheek.

Stay outside of the ropes
sit upon the fence
or bounce into the middle
of your undoing.

editors note:

Cheek, indeed! Is life a spectator sport? What the hell – I’m bouncing in. – mh

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