A Change For The Better Will Soon Be Made Against You
Against the set intention of my would-be executioners I survived. I may be whistling down the road but my snatched- away future fiercely wrestled back weighs on me evenly like water. And, lover, yours does too—the future and its corollaries. Is it for me, this love you make against me? And I against an un-resilient surface of the dark, or against the backdrop of the city—our minor bungled plans against the grand one? Will I make any sense here or are the odds against it? Sorry, but the cracking open of this cookie's got me started, reminds me of a slender bone of poultry grasped across a cluttered table and what happens when two contend for one desired wish. You see where I'm headed? Sometimes to pull away is the same as pressing up against one in this darkness, like the way words and meaning can pull away or push against till something snaps with a cry we don't recognize as ours. Love, let us join hands and flee this jam we're in, these consequences leaning this way and that, and escape to the next perilous change for the better. See, it's fatal isn't it, this will to live? Look what happens.