I should step lighter;
but it's beyond my nature
to tread anything but heavy.
I kick in your unlocked door,
shattering the crystal window
set to prism glaring light to something softer,
something to the taste of your subtler mind.
I am, self consciously, barbaric.
however well my motive springs
I always leave blank carnage in my wake.
as we speak—at last—of your deep trouble
the echoing cackle of a drunkard wastrel
mocks your need and calls me away.
look, I'm gone again, trampling daisies