Inverted Falling

The vessel clanking on the surface resounds,
amidst the bellowing of steam gaining momentum.
He pours it over the tiny pieces of fortune,
the dried flecks take on a new dimension,
a fat, chunky texture that clogs the morning spirit.
Sipping, distracted by the lack of a cage,
time scratching at all his senses,
evoking the image of a twisted, scragely tree branch falling.
As much gravity as on any other day,
today is the day he succumbs.

Rabbitman in the Mirror

Episode finale, rerun suddenly stripped of all hope,
sloshing Cowgirl Creme and cracker, two cups of bean juice float,
nauseous from this twisted journey, not sure i want to cope.

Road's end plummets at the coastline, the aged lighthouse is so near,
but a fog on the staircase at Point Reyes interferes.
The stench of rotten barnacles, reminds of a clinging past,

the choices i've made unnerving, gastric surge now seems certain...
Rabbitman on the wall in 315, i know why you look at me in mirror,
wash these soiled crusty sleeves, draw again from this tricky hat.