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 |   GI100 Book #2...random attempts at poetry. |
7-9-17 Some days it's hard to tell which way the air flows. I'm brittle and lazily focused; I suppose I could just as well go either way, breathing ribbons of anonymously vacant content meant to disturb then settle. Asking for nothing; receiving pacts of consistent partial relevance in return. The house is bleeding fire and all I can do is stare at the scene wondering how I got here and why I'm not the relief I claim to be. Might just be my delusion- my symphony of construction humming broken bars of hollowed notes while dancing in place to the calming notion that sometimes my best company is myself. It's not so lonely at the top when you don't know you're there and the glass house is inhabited by ash-flecked dreams and ill-timed memories. |
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