Ribmeat Of The Family Tree

The Ash leapt off the edge of a cigarette

11/28/05-12/6/05

         and I knew I had problems.
I wasn't about to focus on their causes.
It was all-hands about cope
or hope of a cure
for lack of said passing remedy.
I don't stress, I distress.
I don't undress, I disrobe.
In lack of clothes I unwind
with unwine to ease a whine
or complaint when the absolution
results in the resolution
that abomination is no antidote.
It's just bandaids by rote.
The process is not
         manageability by what's manageable;
it is harnessing capabilities
into overpowering struggling comparisons,
harboring positivity
and building everything exponentially.
The one societal lubricant has failed
and now seems like no better time
for a more operative, experimental replacement.
The work of echoes begins with my resoundment
and a proper retooling of my attitude.
Steps no more; less calculations just.
Aiming for leaps and then bounds...
not pinning my hopes on edges
but solidifying core truths
in a foundation I can believe in.
If it fails to fall from the tips of me,
then I know it should be here for keeps
and then I will live in its bounty.
From ashes arise beauty in hope
of learning toward a more tolerable
frame of space.