Prognosis 

Tailspin, your words are falling flat interpretations feeling new you balk, insist I’m off the mark finding meaning where there’s none but I remember words and phrases facial expressions, contexts, moments backtracking and turning faces does nothing for your current case I might seem cruel, sometimes I question but instinct seems to take me over…

The Chop 

The excuses we make for others’ excuses circle around fragmented moments,  in perfect clarity with one simple act – the tempermental chop Time can’t be rewound the looks on their faces plead in reverse while pulling away, numb in the moment distorted surrender – trust it or make it stop