Blemish.

Read between the lines
and break out the
box,
Smashin' the drum with
a handful of rocks,

No beat, eaten, reachin'
that other thing that
comes this way,
Patch in the mud, untread,
but tread whichever way
it wants,

Haunts those curves and
crevices unseen,
Keen, this thing, shattering
glass,
Sure, I'll bite, but does
it pass?

Neural in essence, twitch,
in tender stitch toward
the other end,
Whichever way does it
want to bend?

Following no one's trend...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
1/31/2013