I CARRY THE WEIGHT

I have plans to

 make plans

(lists of lists to write.)

weary of their cultivation, ideas sown in the soil 

they are fed acrid resentment
and only brief sparks 

of lucidity.

I look at your feet shuffling

a rhythm.

I meet you there.

Patterns must be dismantled
 bit,

by bit.

Fingers busy.

teeth chew on lips, hungrily,

anxiously.

yet pulse
is no where to be found.