feel again, will you?silences do not define quiet footsteps that have never passed by.
you'd indirectly show: implicit
ideas and hovering breaths
are so much more beautiful.
dread is like the setting sun.
veiled by slabs of foundation
contrasted, sharpened, crop-
ped, and twisted.
they are all chasing, tripping
over one another to fit in the
ideal gridded configuration.
drench in this tragedy and be
squeezed dry of all e motion
feel again, will you?
psychedelicperhaps we're just the same darn mirror image of each other,
the slight tilt of envisioned perfection, pierced and unplugged,
repeatingrepeating in our own ignorant fish tanks.
i need oxygen
you say you are what you want to be--
but what if i don't want to be?
perpetual perceptual ignorance would still label me as disoriented.
our ideals are just rearrangements of twenty-six curves and
nothing more, nothing less.
could we ever really speak our minds
when confusion is never enough,
when truth is yet to be explained,
when wavering notions strike you
and set you back behind
oceans of warped fishnets?