attrition
coming by its own volition
dragging along its suspicion 
turning into fact from fiction

renting out a pretty white lie
for another way to get by
letting the fact of matters die

drifting on an open calm
into an unfamiliar palm
recording the sequential psalm

visible only by worth
building castles, tunnels, and birth
from light in the salt of the earth

diffusing an analogy
reverting back to alchemy
with grudges bled from mutiny

second placing everything
substituting anything
fretting over what to lose
and what to bring

holding out for the last laugh
coming up with only half
repairing a shattered craft

staring down the obvious
trying so hard i almost missed
chalking it up to the list

praying to a simple known
cutting right down to the bone
by means of leaving well enough alone

digging up uncertainty
bringing down immunity
in the eyes of good company

speaking with a heavy tongue
holding a head to be hung
reaching for the last rung