so truly

do i hang on silence

reading into its tension

its crinkled tea leaves winking

hallucinating flippant judgment from its purveyor

so falsely

does its meaning rain

and drench paper cloaks

that drip with memory's ink

staining each focused breath

who said innovation breads attention

how does it apply to the second string?

the benched fringe of anyone's need

i put faith that adoration yields scraps of allowance

but secretly wonder if it simply yields annoyance