I didn’t need a chair, or a choir

and you didn’t need to feel the cold air rush across your legs, but you did anyways,

it rushes by us and through us, we are like screen doors, or rivers.

and the wind easily howls through all of us.

The wreath up so high, higher than any outstretched hands can reach,

and the howling, belligerent winds, or rivers.

This is our waterloo, this is our rockets-red-glare, the great pyramids at Giza.

This is our wreath, up high, on a pedestal.

A crown jewel, a chance at knighthood, extra condiments at no additional charge.

A standing ovation, from a pedestal.

There are only lesser metals for now, and the other precious gems just out of reach, and we know the

pearls are deep under the currents.

There are more doors and other pedestals, and countless oysters that are

worth far more than our wreath up high, but not by much.

I can see shining between the waves, between the crack in the door,

at least someone knows the value

at least someone isn’t rambling,

at least someone isn’t hiding.

I’ll try to decipher which instruments are making which sounds, and you can figure out where the predators are camouflaged.

I’ll just end up tripping over the instruments and the predators to in the dark room in which they are stored or ( camouflaged )

( and I’m half asleep_)

In the dark room in which they are played, when they are played
( and I’m half asleep_)

distilled, in various installments, blended into madness, into darkness.

Ill try to decipher the wall paper and decode the color of the paint before I climb the mountain,

It only took one coat, that I can tell.

Ascending into madness, into darkness,

(and finding where exactly to put my feet)

( I’m still trying to find where I put my feet)

There it hangs, like a star, in every way, above me, better than me.

( camouflaged)

Except its artificial and not glowing, but its a star in every other way.

and still away from me, our of reach with or without the chair.

(enraged, and still half asleep_)

Laughing at me, as only a wreath can laugh in the middle of the night,

except its not laughing , and its still not glowing , but its laughing in every other way.

I was able to get it down, however.

Down from the towers, descending from where I ascended to, originally,

organically,

( I’m still trying to find where I put my feet)

These weren’t the towers I was meant to scale or siege.

I’ll remember those towers, and how I truly know nothing about them.

and I can climb back into bed, of my high horse,

off of my pedestal,

into waters I know and look for stars that I am familiar with.

The cold air still rushing across my legs, and face,

making screen doors out of us, all of us.

and I can still hear the instruments, because I have sidestepped them, for now.

stepped around them like they were merely sleeping, eyes squinted, holding my breath, for now.

still rambling, still breathing, for now.

We can revisit the wreath and it’s place in the sun tomorrow,

with or without a chair, with or without the sun,

with or without the camouflage.