Struggling With Words Poem by GRANT FRASER

I want the cuff,
the everyday!

without doctoring
and moulding everything
I would like to say,

but eternity strips me
down,

as does the perplexing
will of coming to terms
with what life is,

an attempt,
some chance perhaps,

to harness something else,

what could it be...

I break up everything
I usually say - first!

I'm used to reshaping now,
the confounded edit!

words will not fall in love
with me...

but I like the devil
pull them down and bend
their arms back,

why do I have to do that?

while getting high sometimes
on something,

fumes of puzzlement and lack
of anything explicable,

mystery your mouth was always
meant for me,

I love it, the darkness of space,
and all the myriad stones washed
up on the shore,

like myself, hard, grey, so shapeless,

the only reward!