Nerves More Poem by dan hightower

Nerves more and still shattering breaths convey the fragility, these lachrymose moments of potentiality, ready but not wanting, available but not desiring, the dancing tendrils of morose fascination play the tune on my mind’s leathery surface, the prodding of fate, the preening of the past, past any changeable manifestation, hopes defenestrated, shattering as they strike the foundation, my moments here like foundlings, like feral invisibles, like ghosts representing the haunting of innocence, daggers thrusting and twisting in the fray, without regard or aim, strong and lucid, acrid to all who witness the growth, the internal rhythms foreshadow the fall, the leaving of it all, and I stand here now in limbo, like frozen tyme, waiting for a synchronistic malfeasance while I am weak, vulnerable, while finally there is something to echo the loss…