Clutch to rags and burlap sack to match tawny in the sunlight, all these fears come to bear being inducers of haggardness
To the fool’s steps the world quips giving rise to the hermit’s foresightedness, treasure solace’s afforded solitude from the abrasiveness
Embrace a mesh of mass bodied with barbs until numbness imparts one’s own gospel truth, gnashed under its tooth’s cadences
Emotional only when the blue moon favors it, sacredness where the wounds don’t schism and shift to others the look of stoicism
Settle for a sheet to rest my weariness, writhe in vain to the ring of change collecting off scene—dreams empty in their coffer’s prison
Bars of ink to encompass marred feet of a journey into the deep and unfriendliness, quills through my soles feats to drop a pen on
Retrograde is the dawn that saves, only feeling left in a maze of starless night afraid with a face of braveness and primal manifestations
Stressing from what’s harshly pressed on, hardly formed what’s been plaguing me so, nebulous but as real as the oxygen I’m tasting
©2019 loose.leaf.lover
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