Layers
phantasmic.
we can’t see much in mirrors,
or even clouds.
so much distress.
it toys with our veneers,
our flesh a mutable ache.
too many sub
rosas and twists,
let alone those afar.
we’ve lost accommodation.
such tyrants in belfries
in a clockwork of cloaks.
these layered tasks.
when the tower collapses,
dunes from our hearts
slouch the flimsy rubble.
==========================================
1/24 ... "dunes from our hearts" replaces "the dunes"
No comments:
Post a Comment