I look away when crossed
With uncertainty and confounded variation
Please, please, please don't speak to me
I will shatter if pressed
By a pointed look, an audible bequest
In question: my stable living shelf-life
How much sour milk can fit down a shrunken throat
Whose tongue is between cat teeth
In an a-linguistic tug warp
Scribbled muscled pencil:
Erase down to the shadow
I can't bare and be seen
And yet! The desperation
To fit into apple eyes
Who sprinkle curiosity seeds
Across fields which love might water
I drift between equator and frigid poles
Unruddered existence at odds with
Both love and hate
Shame and exuberance
My tails wags as it wonders,
Will I escape these shaking legs?
Roman Ryan 