Running wild away
From furry hands
And slobbery toes.
He’s mixed
In the middle.
In a warbled sense
Of misdirection
He fumbles out
A paraphrase.
He distinguishes himself
By doing nothing
To no one.
He paints himself
In aromas
Steely and fleeting.
He brings himself
Along lengths
Too far to see.
Collapsing down
Into the spiral
Letting go
Feeling
Falling.
Obsidian whispers
Dark thoughts
In his waning ears.
Facing the cold wind
He pulls his parka up
Around his face
And steps into it.
Obsidian whispers.
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