tipped with gray,
break off my page
cutting through murky water.
The words I need
wither in expanses
hidden by hollowed smirking faces
and jabs of laughter folded in curses as they travel past,
ice blades scraping,
that holds me transfixed in wobbling space —
lacking saw, nail, hammer, pen —
that ought not fail, but do here,
stained with me.