endemic

When the aging cancer agitates
under this skin of wood dust
it rearranges the muscles
it forces its way through
breaks the well of peace.

Times like the one saved
while I must concede to thought
unable to deny it; unwilling.
Once a thought committed
it is forever etched within.

Where is the ceasing strife?
Just under the muscles, or
tied to the vermin that thrives
suckling dry the last strains
born out of willingness.

Once I said not to use words
as cyphers to meanings;
to be transparent.
But these waters flow polluted,
their clarity murked.

How to see through this muck?
Under the film covering the surface
lives a heart weakened.
Its vessels have more to carry;
vessels of a natural clarity.

Disturbed waters that cycle
the garbage, damming it still.
One cleanse is enough to refresh
once the heart is ahead;
Will it be.