what i can't do

i feel like i can't say shit anymore, cuz the ideas i spit just quit at the door,
i see what must be, and yet when they ask me, what is mine what is yours, what belongs to be free. i can never respond in a singular note, a throat always cut, is a neck in a rope. by the lee, by the boat, no matter where i'm found there lies, a spyglass a scope, and a glass mirror of hope. and of course by the sea, where the demon sees me, and the father sees it, peering at me, i am free of the curse, the curse to be birthed, without life on the rise, there only lies death in stormed skies.

an event unadulterated would leave us all the wiser, but i must covet widows and saints, i must destroy i must retain.

iii