The Things That Fall

Every night, a pedantic array of whim displays casts

among caskets and basket cases over long time indecision

And while he basks in baths filled with insecurity

The small sounds of denial to eliminate the contemplation

Between emotion and reason

And the incomplete delineation between foe and friend.

Every night, while the things that fall and fly off shelves

with pages and broken glass panes and pangs of phobias

Surrounding the notion of less than able or just incapable

to tell the meager difference of complete stupidity

And sensibility or the lack thereof.

Sometimes, every night becomes a night of too much inconsistency

between cheating routine and what it means

to be precise and constant

Turning the vague bread pan of wrong

into a throng of more than hopeless

Sometimes, every day starts as a play poorly scripted

Inscribed by the things that fall and the things encrypted

Inside his head where the incise truth of it all

Explains what's rational but then is overcome by ladders

leading only to a point where his pride breaks and shatters

Every day is a rush in a race to see who he can make feel better

and to claim that maybe he could justify every day ever

A day where a milestone is two miles behind

and feel great about the great things that he says

Although the things he says might be blind

Every day, while the things that fall, the things that matter

will one day show the world of his worth

That maybe they’d regret the day they said he swerved

Along a course of wrong and sinful conviction

Against the odds that maybe what he says is only the exposition

Every day while the truths rang and headaches pang he sang

He sang about the gout and the dirty sayings displayed

And every night shouting rooftop flings like songs that sings

emotion and pride and how his love never died

The things that fall, the things inside

Every day while the things that sink, he’d think and think

while on the brink of disclosure like an enclosure of simplicity

The cage that is, not the Rhapsody of complete embracery

to the one juror that matters, the side where it shattered

Despite the things that fall and splatter

These are the things that fall until you feel small

Until the emaciated guilt drips inseminated hatred

Among things better left unsaid, the things evicted

from mouths with tongues stabbing spittle

Spewing fluid and subtle hints of being caught in the middle

The subtle hints, the subtle screams, the fall

Heights that bite at the bottom concrete

The leap before the reaping shadow people

Never deny or mistake, the risk that this isn’t fake

Or the fall after a cry for help, so help