Lend the Rope, I’ll Tie the Knot

Hang the outlier.

Take this on the authority of a liar,

for a liar I am and out beyond the lines.


With the bark and the nail and the hammer in the back,

raise the marauder among the ranks,

further into the sky with arms outstretched

for now having the allure of a beautiful potential, preparing to embrace.

The secret behind the fear in the clouds is theirs to behold.

By chance it could be a plunge into the everlasting shadow—

The infinity of nothing in all its lack of glory.

By chance it could be a reach into the fabled story of eternity—

The unending reality of never feeling worry.


Hang the outlier and hang them high,

for I’ve heard on the authority of a liar,

and the liar I am and far too assured to falter.


A balloon around the wrist and a cannonball for the ankle.

I’ll take these tokens of friendship,

wear them proudly upon my fragility

as the matching consequence to the sensitivity underneath my frame.

No concrete domain opens to the approach of years.

This is a guarantee placed on a gambler’s word.

The bridge could fold on its own design and unravel out of time.

A construct so clear finds obscurity in the throes of uncertainty,

with the certainty itself hiding in direct sight.


Hang the outlier and hang them tight,

for I’ve heard on the authority of a liar,

and the liar I stay and deluded to veracity.

A hollow mark for the efforts never made and never meant,

for there was never a chance to reach for clarity.

No space was left to consider an alternative.

The lashes on these joints and the hand on my throat

bear one at fault only, and I can’t meet his eyes.

*

( ❤ Mitch)

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