Healthy with Shani

this, my darkened path i stroll looking down into the brush, with its edges that feather dust my ankles searching with strain until i flicker a glance at a glimmering edge of the path and know it's really there i cant be concerned with what's ahead it only scares the shit out of me it's like i may negate for myself, a place to step if i dont look down and my feet and soul may fall deep into the river some river i dont know any river a lake an ocean i dont know an abyss or an abysmal fate that will come as quickly as my panic to correct my unfortunate misstep but if i mis-stepped, i'd live with this misstep my sickness and pleas to reverse it would be in vain i'd plunge into something that doesnt smell look taste feel like anything ive ever smelled, seen, tasted and touched before it scares the shit out of me im head rushed into thinking about all the "what-ifs" rising and falling in me, my guts raining like glitter into cob web...

Being picked away, or torn away, your ragged ending resembles the hurried attempt to remove you from where you really belong but where you could never be again. But still, you stand alert on a proud and sturdy beam of summer grass green that shimmers and shines in a polished finish.  Standing so tall and firm, the delicate curvature of your beam leans to where I know you once looked for food; evidence of your vulnerable life. Thick, long veins, noticeable only by touch, lead up until the summer grass green liquifies and splashes into a dramatic sail of ivory white.  The tear drop form, pinched off and twisted at the top tip salutes with your last remaining bit of summer grass green.  Rust colored freckles and constellations dot your rubber skin, with impressions drawn by the eye in firm shadows and highlights like sunbeams pointing to the center of your universe.  And in that center, protected from the world so tightly or left exposed by your white flag of surren...