in a panic nothing’s
static to stand on hands
or toe a ledge.
toss the thought of legs
and torso or even more so
a sturdy chair from which to fall
and land on knees
which know to beg.
say your prayers in bold
hysterics, laughing past
the point of dread.
shred the truth you gave
or told to, even sold to
lovers dark and manic maimed
with well-worn words
you fear but save.
fall with purpose
be an art form, tragic shades
of standard themes.
break your fall on me
who hides here, even thrives here
now you know, it breaks apart
the settled lie
that we do seem