..snigger balefully amid the rotten fruits of my endeavours.

(I thought I'd put it all together - this has potential! )

Over-ripe mangos
snigger balefully amid the rotten fruits of my endeavours.
yet, sticky sweet with desire to continue
the process
of growth
to the point of disintegration.
The break down of a cell u lar so ci e ty
into piece-meal fragments of life.

The quest for insulation
led only to isolation -
and the walls began to grow.
The perplexity of design -
which brick first and where?
Patterns begin to emerge
even in our solitude.
Should I know where to place each brick?

Is this a test of my ability?

Or do I let the brick place itself
and merely provide the means to it's movement?
Bricks are pattern intuitive
nay, it's my job to provide the matrix
Built. A coffer dam
holding back the precious nectar
from the rotting fruit of life?

The questions continue, yet
every time I look up, another brick
is in place.
I don't remember putting it there,
but there is much I don't remember.

" . . . her arms are wicked and her legs are long . . ."