I am still too attached to the mocking past.
Strangers laugh and I wonder if they are laughing at me as they pass.
Suddenly I am the awkward boy again, worried the outer mantle of me has somehow worn thin.
Yet I do not wish to be a man with a crocodile skin.
that’s what you call it
with your cold cash
and frozen heart
shivering in your
ice castle mansion
not wanting to take it
because you’re afraid of the
how far you may have to fall and
the pain you may have to share
with those who have already
slid down to the bottom
me i call it
Not all precipitation that anoints your head is good.
Sly things hidden in the molecules coursing down your cheeks may be entering the pores of your skin and burying deep to reside therein
poisoning your soul.
Often the damage is a gradual thing.
Beware of the subtle nature of that which is not as it seems so that you will not awake some day to find that you are wet and you have bathed in something that leaves you unclean.
Walk softly and carry a big umbrella.