Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Precarious paths winding and intertwining.
Like a map or better, a maze!
Of scrawled words;
Some dark and serrated, bleeding.
Others with the slightest impact, a dying bulb
But still integral
To my expression, my sanity.
My thought; a potent piece of light,
Flitting deep into immeasurable divisions of space
Ascending wavering ladders,
Woven together by shredded fragments of every prospective utterance.
Tasting every viable union
Until settling on the precise arrangement,
My perfect expression.

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