my walk, is of my age of years, my time of beening, and the concern of my mind, as i contemplate this day,

reversing me, is taking my inside an letting them hang out so that life may view the beating of my heart, the escape of tears that can no longer be seen, so that unhappiness could not be viewed, so that you can no longer see the tears run down my cheeks,


as the muscle's that are attached, flex themselves of rippling vessels, that entwine around my hearts as it is cruched with dissatisfied life of tension,

blood runs down, as my lungs breath life for me, for i can no longer see the rise an fall of my chest, looking in the mirror as my intake spills in me, with circumstance weakness is no displeasure, for i utter no words, the damamge of life is my view,

my lungs are dark, from life and air,


first an last is my view of self, of person, of a portal time of the reversal of my life, my skin, my course, and the secrets that are kept for once in me.