Every now and then i see a piece of me in all the things I’ve wanted to deceive. And every time I walk a line
it detours every time to a spike-strip addled road carved out on the side aside a boring chorus sings with arms folded company.
And then right there I’m feeling scared. Not a ghost white but nerves like fleas, scattering. Embalm before the storm.
And every time I see a sign designed to change my mind, my thoughts are all aligned in keeping me free from thieves.
These are all mine.