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The lake dictates the news
With ebbs of a sighless swoon
She feigns supply and demand

My rue willed an empty room
With words like “I will take real good care of you”

Can a god spill milk?
Kissing fate to watch the hours wilt
Does belief reside
Between the hoax and the shrine?

I wandered around a shapeless station
In soliloquy clouds, that nebulous dichotomy town

I am all of it
Clocking in but dreaming I could quit
Does abeyance lie
Between the shackle and the stride?

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