confusion?
no
a mistake, of course.
a quiver
a forgotten puncture
to bite these quick
flowers
that burst forth
and destroy
so many fractured
alleyways

a rhythm
a beat
a tortured go-round
to drown the sickening whisper
of our waning
and wicked
youth

hold tight
don't sway
don't contain
your foolishly
delicate
maze
string it together
with boxes
fences
and white candlestick ladders
those puddles of thought
and streams of freedom
(but not love)
that we so carelessly
create

and then wonder at

silently