In the barrage

Tiny rocks of consciousness 

Break through image.

Engulfed in concentrated, pointed confetti,

Slips of paper rain down 

With the words of my confessions.

Reminders of foolish misprision

The lapses made without hesitation

Leading to where I now tread.

Spinning like a top amongst the swarm

Unable to reside in the comfortable,

Damp nooks that remind.

Instead, I am catapulted

Through and between familiar scenes.

Not left, deliciously, to hover

In spaces I can call home

Only in places 

That have thrown me to the wolves,

And where we have eaten each other.