424.

When you stand at the
horizon of your life, what
will be stitched inside?

423.

A quiet rapture
quilts gentle dreams into the
precipice before.

422.

I want to kneel at
the altar of your heart's church
and bear confession.

421.

What secrets do you
keep under the auspices
of self-protection?

420.

The paralyzing
memory of parables
learned the hard way, numbs.

419.

Dreams become nightmares
in the stifled space of air's
occupied fractures.

418.

All too often I
still trip clumsy feet over
baggage in my head.