introversions: the catalyst

he understands

the descent

it makes sense

grass is simple

as grass is green

and concrete is cold and hard

substratum is self-explanatory

and always

how it ought to be

and trumpets are for entrances

rice for becomings

silence for egresses

but his hands

are strange

how they close into fists

and how they blossom

for reasons not always apparent

the metacarpals

the phalanges the joints the tendons the veins

they are strange

and how they sabotage

his footing

to exist for the fall

and for the ground

rushing up to his face

he understands

the descent in every way

it's the catalyst

that perplexes

he knows 

that he doesn't make sense

and he doesn't care