jump-er
This is one of those moments
where prose
exists in an alternate place
devoid of life yet space
envelopes it like a cold lover.
And yet it has appeared
from deep beneath the
subterranean fears
of failure and pointlessness
it’s a bit of mess
yet erase I do not
with this blue ink. stop.
This is one of those nights
where words
have no meaning
devoid of feeling
taunting me with their shy revealing.
Should I keep going
too-ing & fro-ing
pushing & pulling the ever tight jumper of acceptance.