The Dangerous Twist

i oughta be a stonemason, the way i build walls. i do it so effortlessly it's like i shit bricks to build with.

i haul the ice for this igloo, and have the temerity to complain of the cold.

do i mix my metaphors? i hope i do so finely. i wonder when i will be well. my mind is like so much pond scum, with mud all at the bottom. will lotus buds bud?

emmanuel is the heron, solid and strong, who stands in me, and the clearness of his reflection on my face is all the clarity i posess.