where i swallowed myself in a swan song dream

In days to come  
they will merge like one grey river  
into which nothing will flourish  
or breathe or whisper  
a dear true line of love.  
It disables every movement,  
It rots my crumbling columns  
Onto which my awkward footsteps trip.  

It had once felt so unattainable  
yet by some breeze’s tender stroke  
bespoken to whatever spell  
could drag by the hair  
this stuporous fledgling  
towards a smidgeon of beauty.  
and a sense of refinement.  
 
To forget is this insane??????  
This mission I’ve been leading.  
An inkling of a longing,  
inevitably killing the last remaining  
vestige of a floundering citadel  
supported in stone immortal visions in mind.  
 
 
In mind yes, because the inner is weak  
and out of step  
and inconsolable.  
An inconsiderate vain mind  
multiplying like worms on green bread.
 
‘Follow me’ FOLLOW ME!  
I can do it but I cannot be inner  
action-actions that are deaf  
to inner lobe tutor,  
   a drop of joy alive in a jar  
   rotting in time and coo!  
Coffins rumble explosions.  
... all to flourish  
 
Can I fall earthy onwards  
trusting myself  
knowing that I’ve lied to me before.  
Onto rainy soiled profusions of growth  
planting lime green shells ,  
pushing this clown-like soul  
to say ‘fuck-it’ one last time.  
 
Stay with me  
It shall not be wasted  
It is not art  
It is the sweat on the palm of the hand  
that you narrowly aimed to lick  
and  if I grow one more inch  
I would die in the core  
of Adams apple mind.