Grounds

Ground slips beneath my feet,.
The cross work lattice of my life,.
Crumbles before my tattered eyes,.
Held in place by poison ivy,.
The oil seeps into my throat,.
Spouting venom that corrodes her ears,.
As the very ground i cherished,.
Becomes a field of pitch,.
The very instant that I fall,.
Will your hand be there to stop me,?
I'd like to think it will,.
When you get off the red wine and sleeping pills.,
When the dreams we emit,.
Can finally be real,.
And a new ground will be born,.
From all the chaos that we birthed,.
From the beautiful thoughts that were in the womb of out battered minds.,