I want to bend with the flow of feeling, resist the rush of chaos I carry, and contour with the curves of the dark sky's floor. I'm going to wait until the tides of steep water carry away the rest of the crew, and I'll not break until there is no one, and no thing left for me to love and be for. I can wave in the winds wailing, wearing on us like the stones we stand as, but how can I sway and stay rooted, somber or on my own? Hand over a self, so as to build an us, a pair, a tango, turbulence and travesties as a set; a reason to be weathered by worry, resistance, banes of our short existence, or cold shoulders from these warm hearts.
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