It is time to switch things up in a big way

coy coiled underneath the rocks
a settled cloud coupled and skimmed overhead
A messenger meant nothing he said
felt his face, lower back, then chest
haze hovered over the drawers
housing his helmet, a wrench, a needle and thread
feeling a face, arching a neck toward gazing in
lays himself in place
feels the softness of his bed
coy coiled underneath the rocks

I'm all over the place

Stale taste of dry air
stiff neck, heavier hair
flaking off into our day

thought provoked a stopped track
rope in a runners route

forever tastes us this way
without a consort, a minor cord, or a place to play