Desperate attempts to sink the unsinkable

Post-summer confession
Days without words
Still full of expression
The chair still rocks
And cigar still pulls
Sky spitting same old
Thundering the earth’s pulse

Settee dusty
Soles of four feet
Step lightly, flirting
With muscles new and old
Grown as far as they could
From the thought
Of being cold
Earth so clean
Mouths so dirty
Wind, water, fire
Lurking

Small lakes
Make cloud-like shapes
And wash away the distant birthing
Of a myth
Where to get the message
Was a risk
So steep
That the tides
Could drift

Cornered
Three out of four
Numbers, smells
Possessions
Gold
Fallen between cars
Sober silence
Between bars
Scientifically
They proved it
It has all been
A farce

&

Energy is
Useless

Unless
You know
How they use it

Unless
The symbols
Get parsed

 

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