Rib(disjointed)

Yawning wide, the expanse

Threatening snaps

(Begging slaps)

Splayed open, call it ivory

Should it tickle? I’ll dig deeper

Raked, this xylophone

A wind instrument- played percussively

Dots and dashes, sound graffiti

~da-dittit~

Cursed in Braille

Smile in silence, and trace my trail

Turnt down now, and leveled up

Higher still, that the low country broils

Red with steam, butter sopped

A golden arch, and served (my pleasure)

Drowned in sound, and muffled breaths

Five to live, or rescue death

Here we start, back at the end

Facing away, moving forward

End at the back, just where we started

Bottom to top

Bottom to top

Smile in silence, and trace my trail