Wandering the maze 

within, minotaurs appear 

with each memory 

Long knives glint coldly 

waiting for backs to turn and

reveal weaknesses 

The wire between self-

obsession and destruction 

is thin and wobbly  

Bitter roots can heal 

although the medicine may

stick in your gullet 

The tide will rise and

rise and eventually 

rinse away the stains 

Your tattered flag, broke

down bridges, and trash-filled streets

are exceptional 

The nails need trimming

the face needs a shave and the 

mind needs sharpening