These days cascade, fluctuating in a gesture, darting like a flea, resting in your supple gaze. These nights perspire, stitched scars, emerging beyond labor, hinged by inhibition. Following decades of jagged ascent, you are sunk in a statement, of intoxication. Following a career of cynical advocacy, you survive in a cloak of relevance, but you are not mistaken. The space between hardship and renewal is dissolving, a lovely droplet lingering, in a near empty vase, translucent. Simply, we can be trusted, to obey, the primacy, of blood, demanding that we hearken -- the unsaid.