Thursday, September 27, 2012

fallen muse

hungry for the taste
dreamcatcher spining
in the wake of the wind
that fills the whole house

and pushed outward
in the spirit of the conventional
typical in its reproach
paning-out like a plot i saw before

there was nothing here
in this beaufiul pit
where all that excess
fills but never slakes the hunger

evaporating into an thick cloud of oil
dissolving in the ambiguity
where time will always regin
over the islands we become

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