kaleidoscopic fears

This is the way you're supposed to be -
breathless,
anxious,
a sandpaper throat
adorned with fingernails (you could never
choke down the truth
but, my dear,
you sure could choke).

This is the way we all fall
when we can't
seem to
move.
Our feet are stuck to yesteryear's
yesterfears
and the dour hours
continue to chisel
our lithesome frames.

This is the way we all get lost
even though
we were always
-> HERE <-
The scenery shifts
and we can't remember our lines.

This is the way I always forget -
discerning atoms under a kaleidoscope
never rendered discernment at all;
my self-portraits
will always depict monsters
two-feet-small.