Sunday, November 5, 2017

confusion


















a touch,
cool and fresh,
rising up
from the slime below
is all that is left
of the quiet times
where peace
once dwelled;
confusion;
twisting and turning,
deviations too large to cross,
symbols and signs
designed for experience
yet doomed
to impotency,
going down
smooth as silk,
burning everything
yet nothing
for as far
as the naked eye
can see.
.

.

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