hyppocratic piety

i need to collapse, calling up on the carpet
hands burning fruhm sundered rug
i need to cry, coming out of myself
wrung of extraction in bitter citron tears

sway, i sway
circular motion stirring to attention
play, i play
cynical action brokering affection

and if i am only this pain that i wish
(who said that i wish, i wish, i wish--)
i need to exact that which calls out to me
i have only as much impulse as i am

this leaden quality to my centre
which has tipped up to my brain
and my heavy head will linger
my brightness dulled to lax

why am i doing it? why is it done?
how is it done, most importantly
because i am too tired to think
of anything but doing it, now

certainly too tired to think of attention
to attend to appearances and glamorize me
holding wooden instrument, arms columbering
denying that i know what it is that i do

and what would i envision, perfect denouement?
fretted and frittered and laid up in a casket
audience anchored to my critical condition
needing the closest of intimate care

needing to know that someone - anyone (everyone) cares

call me sweetly, even as i swindle
offer help (i must refuse)
beg proportion for uncaused action
judge me justly, in open view

even as i have just been on a plane
even as i have crossed the country
even as i have stayed in a twin bed
even as i have stood on standby

i profess to be weak
i pretend to be weak
i play to be brittle
i play to be fragile

as i list, sweating fulsion
as i tilt, unpropulsion

full room rotation
in flux apparation
sick spiral of sinners
the swimming in heat

graying, ashen, opal shades
call out to invisibility
cloaking infrisibility
immense responsibility

slumping over
slippery slope

sway, i sway - i sway
i sway

i sway