Changing sets

Changing sets
between the scenes,
stagehand shakes
and mainland dreams.
Not quite doubts
but not quite clean.
Will I make a mess
if I mess with things?
Status quota,
quote the writer,
I felt I had to
stow the lighter,
but dull is dull
and left is brighter,
like moth to porch,
the torch desire.
I've sang the lay
of the land so long
that my throat is sore
and my voice is gone.
The choice is slim,
one hand belongs,
one hand's adrift,
both are moving on.
And I hope I land
but if I slip,
then I'll be back quick
as a powder trip.
What would I lose,
what would I quip?
There ain't no shame
in sinking ships.
Lil' big plans
and an unclear goal,
but sooner or later
I had to go.
I've seen too many
western strolls
to cling inside
this hobbit hole.
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