Lean In

plasticine and evergreen

I lean in but I never lean back.

Arms outstretched before me, elbows crooked at forty five degrees from set shoulders and anxious ankles. Deep seated in faux leather and self leathering, a baby doll with dumb thumbs and newborn eyes fixed forward in desperate measures, plasticine and evergreen. Mind so malleable you could throw the grey matter on a potters wheel and spin a bowl to drain your desperation, if you ever manage to get it centered.

Some people can't get centered.

They'll come a hairbreadth from obtaining equilibrium before it collapses under the weight of their perceived inadequacies, rising and falling in cannonical conicals, tempered by tempest hands devoid of patience or proclivity. Nails bitten, twice shy, once more with feeling as gravity renders them irrelevant. Queries for tectonic quotidians, earth shattering and signifying nothing.

Dumb thumbs and arms outstretched before them.

Plasticine and evergreen.

They'll lean in, but they'll always lean back.

♤