i was a magician, a master-weaver.
snakelike, the rhythm to you and i
that i wove again and again.
no escape from the outcome,
as any gambler knows,
but for one shaking minute,
shaking like the leaf of a deadened aspen,
the sequence itself can change,
for one cheated ray of light
the sequence itself can change
like jenga.
patient in pale state
my hide in tatters
(it does not matter)
i wait for my breath
to rebound
what i never
had, what
i always had never had.