tension head
in our hands
the wings of doves
flutter then disappear
time moves a muddied river
the head packs dense with silt like concrete
50’ deep and rising...
a hydra hides from swords
of many words and bands
of horses run inside the echo
chamber of the herd
my fingertips to eyelids
I press to reach the daylight
behind the wall
stretch your skinny arms to heaven
like honeysuckle and morning dew
whispers sent
make the flowers bloom
press the petal
capture love’s perfume
accelerate the life inside
still the monster revealed to my eyes
remains restricted to you...
Landi Cruz
Mon 17th Jun 2024 19:33
Thanks, Manish, for reading and leaving a little memento. I've changed it just a bit since--the essence is the same, but I've made just a few edits to make the reading run a bit more smoothly.
While I'm here...
I'm a little shy when it comes to revealing my inner thoughts. I mean, I'm sure my words don't really touch many readers, but they're still personal. That said, I struggle at times to understand the point in sharing--why seek attention for things that are of little to no value outside of my own head? Even at this moment, I'm thinking, 'what's the use?'
Well, whatever...
Maybe my next venture should involve a commune in deep Oregon with carefully administered hallucinogenics while in a safe place--what harm can come beyond what's already been done by the world at large?
Again, thanks for reading. It does matter, I know. I'm just at a low spot, in need of a change of scenery )