Facing the Wall

I hold the pen, with my shaky hand tryna catch for a few lines to make "self" alone and mazed, my smile bare and gay pressed to submission held forth by resolution. like an owl, am whisked by own imagination betrayed and deserted "you loner!" The mystery tickles me sight of dusk at my door why did morn go so fast without a sisterly goodbye. Even the poets lie Their pens turning me up-down with tunes of /dum/Spiro/spero yet the earth, her tongue; lick me with fury and hate leaving me trampled on like the roman ruins! but I will stand put, my nerves steady fast like the Himalaya mountains a new song I shall sing, of leaves becoming new of love and magic victors and Williams no matter how long it'll take, Spero, spera!