In between the folds in the laundry. Somewhere on the back of a hand. Given to the throws of a tantrum. I had to learn, to let go...
The flies around the carrion, the buzz, the heed, and the burial. The holes, the dirt, the soil, the earth, the worms, the fleas behind the sleeves. With a hand that shakes, the eyes that fake, the deal that breaks, the heart that burns to share the heat behind the matter....unchained.
For when the bugs we haul infest the calls we make to chew the blues away, to remember to dismember any weapon with your ember, and breathe, and let go....