Landed on the concave area of the neck is a state
Tolerated because of the lack of other ways
Living with a shadow is a vocation
An imprecise work sometimes

 The space vibrates and I grow
 Led masterfully  toward the possibles
The noisy life at half-mast
 Waiting, quite discreetly

This is a medication of neutrality
Of goodwill
I hibernate
 Multiple enough, open enough to the flux

But joyless
Devoid of excitement
Attenuated on staggering exaltation
Crammed with rudiments

 I go to the front of my patience
 I admit defeat without hiding it
 I still inundates the future
 But not the one of embraces

December 2015