fawning, the unravel of a secret mystery
is stirring in tears of understanding.
The game is played with words,
colors, numbers, metaphors...
anything to veil the truth
from a mind bent on knowing.
Numbing from concoctions of
cockamamie contentions,
the woe-struck wanderer
hides in swaddling again.
The blue dawn fades to bleak-
no tears are left in the welling.
Dry toast of burnt bitter
catch the throat in stifled sob
where ears are deafened in silence.
A flash of black is painted in
the paining... a calling memory
to what it is or lack thereof,
no more mystery, just a
gaming for abandon, a part
to be played in the villain.
Rushing of pensee, throw clouds
and covers to the wind,
it's all clear while seeking a victory
of stoic cynical pretense.
I'll play along til the tire takes,
and in a spectacle of reverse
rules .... the victor is victim
in search of a canopy
uncovered by veil and abandon.
there is so much in here..I know the feelings that come with it
ReplyDeleteIt's the only way I know how to share an active inner life... a storm that precedes the inevitable growth. Thank you for your understanding.
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