Life Got Me By

By yaboi Keelay Ahsley Wullums

Unearthed, bald and sticky.

Tainted water gripping

clammy webs of flesh

with no spiders silk to speak of.

Mashed and pulled

in summer heat.

clingy tightly and yet

as slippery as can be

Irritated and speckled as time goes by

vanity’s hostility

found in locomotive agitation.

Agitation. Agitation repeating

a siren’s call to past mistakes,

another jump for sour grapes.

A fertile temple lain to waste.

No communion ever taken.

Empty alters under constant agitation

washed away by growth

and blanketed in calm.

And slipping into ambivalence,

mingling filaments

filling in lack of diligence.

Lackluster ambitiousness

held back by uncertainty

and comfort.

Shame.

It never stops.

Masks of all the finest cloth

and underneath a cloak

of unwoven threads.

Frayed and rejected.

Barely inspected, but by the eyes that would have them

discarded.

A sense of dispassionate companionship.

the body accepting what the mind cannot.

All at once interrupted

by the faintest of a passing glance,

fading ghosts of a fleeting chance

prevented in lapse of maintenance.

Now left to dance with thought and ask:

Would it be any easier…

Would it feel any better…

If I were smooth?