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Awake upon the path littered in my wake
	noisome memories left behind
	rake you through the loom
That leads along a lie at last that love
	alone would loathe to live
	lost, leaching, and laboring

Nevertheless, and always the lesser
crescendo cedes to climax,
tilting misconception 'til conceived 
inn-errantly

Awake upon the path littered in my wake
	sidewalk cracks along your face 
	parlay my passing eyes
Into pell-mell passersby, tripping
perforce
	a plenary pile of persiflage growing
	peu à peu, like paellastrami phyllos
	
A human portmanteau.

The center cannot hold unless the roots grow deep
Grow your roots son
Grow deep