Statistically

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My heart is killing me
With every beat I die
Perish, that these thoughts should think so well
I am unaccustomed to their independent nature

Unruly children

Dancing before the fire’s flame
Conspiring out of sight

Honest words, Poisoned ivy, Climbing plaster walls

This house is not a house
It is a neighborhood funeral parlor
Blending in with childhood games
Ringing ‘round the roses
Singing out a song of death
Words spoken without the reason of invention

I have madness and in my madness I beat the odds.
I cast the words before me and they fall into a pattern.
They build the puzzle.

I will cast these words again.
And they will build the puzzle.
The words will be different
The picture will not be the same.
But they are the pieces I have always used.

I beat the odds.

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