pretense of discernment

all poetry begins with presumption should you expect anything different here? I would not hold a full lung's air too long would not bust a bronchial capillary in the waiting for its novelty to find you my preconception is that you get me my scents of sandalwood and burned cedar smoking off my ungenerous rolling bones each night in the dicey flight to catch eyes each rheumy sighting a spotlight on me validating stares as none found in my mirror yes, yes, yes, no need to agree on everything my shadow already has that on employ it follows me everywhere, the generic niceness of compliance even when sun and day have curled sidewalks in their closing grip of hands' contracting reflexes of keeping time to explain its mess of squandered hours and no farther into the telling expressions of understanding it is such a misunderstood word, slippery is at best the slope, understanding is a double black diamond downhill careless championing can-can-can-do attitudes are known to accidental you into a good decision as swiftly as a bad choice is unchosen, in revision is it a history of when and how it's all written down upbraided as if it is the same as having settled scores of a game whose name we've now forgot?