turn out like a spout--
dreams--
splatter, smattered, like batter, onto floor
concrete
the street
cold-- oiled, bold.

too big for me
to shurg on,
to keep buttontoned.
to tight
to breathe
to keep zipped,
so i shed it to the floor--

too much
I fear
is near-- falling out,
oh, doubt--
who am I?
Where am I?

Shout.

now count
the minutes you spend,
the hours, like towers, building
till gone and dead
is your oppertunity
to improve your imunity
to this world
to this

in action.

become raidoactive,

your dreams,

till it seems you'll burst with potential
instead of consequential

death
of self-- instead

die by never giving into the lie--

become.

then, it will be done.