Falling Into The Fringe

My best interests
don’t exist,
swept under the
subterfuge of
my folly,
far up-creek
without a paddle,
fighting the rapids

that flail and fling me
out into the fringe,
out beyond
what’s good and whole,
far past the right turns
and suggested streets.
Instead,
I scramble, swing, shatter

while my best intentions
flop around like
a fish out of water,
gasping for air
and convulsing,
writhing while bystanders
just stare and
say,
“that poor thing.
Why do you do this
to yourself?”

So I watch
as pieces fall off,
flutter to the surface
then find themselves
submerged,
drowning in lakes
of listless wandering,
trapped amongst
the amber creatures
in the stasis of
unintended intentions
 
© Patience and Christopher Rupley 2015
 
(Patience has blessed me again by simply being willing to write with me. Please read the rest of her work here).

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