the perturbance
falsifying documents
hollow trees and empty people
stealing all the oxygen

truth is telling
better off in moody marshes
letting God determine if deliverance
should ever touch the venomous

love is washing dishes
squeaky wearing door hinges
memorizing moments
that I never could forget

kissing snakes and extricating
separating from debating
never asking more from less
expecting fire from the sun

time is flying in the slowest sense
left myself enduring
painting pictures in my head
unraveling behind the curtain

rapt in screaming with a whisper
economic satin embers
softest waves of sorrow
float me gently to the shore

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