relinquish

when you're in my sight and the only words i find

can stick like the tines of a grappling hook thrown on the tower of your mind

and language pins me down, eyes and knuckles turn wide and white

and a blink can be what decides a turn away or a scale and breach of the armament.

the cracking walkway 'round the ramparts where your bastions rise

grows slick with the gloss of a thousand retread lines as the backdrops can belie.

an overthrow seems to come as scripted cliche.

the greying tones deserve no texture, the scene begs for abandonment.

spill blood in ink to paper, it's all i can do to take it away