Sunday, October 22, 2017

38/100


Please forgive the mess

The half-hearted attempts

The shitshow.

Forgive the profanity

Forgive the nightmare-like psychosis

You’ll have to excuse me I’m always distracted

Feeling so many things

 Trying to frame them with palatable language

As there is in my soul like this baseline

Like some desert hallucination

As the architecture of the earth

How then

Have I been rendered on this hinge?

Where the telepathy seems abundant

How I feel them so differently

Both raw and cryptic

In the way that I sense them

Like a conversation that I need only listen in on

And what

Am I supposed to say when the eyes are on me?

Knowing the Ceiba outside is beckoning me away from my desk

What then in the whispers of the lichens?

As I shift away from the depths

Into other unforeseen horizons

Where I am only beginning to learn the value

In not having to go alone

As if in some way

Through isolation I find connection.

No comments:

Post a Comment