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Night about me like a locked box
Outside my window, shifting like a smuggler
Whispering its oily tune at my heart's valves
My beatsΒ slow imperceptibly
Notes of guilt insinuate themselves
between thick sheets that press me down
The itch and chafe of thoughts gnawing for a voice ,
the tick feeding in the groin,
speaks its blackness to my veins
Carrying my truth.
I stand by my views,
watching through
my weakening gaze.

After a raging storm,
making peace with myself,
I vanish into the air,
my convictions fold with me.

Without simple answers,
wearing the new lens,
I see another world:
not clearer,
not wiser,
not safer,
…
just slightly shifted.
π–²π—…π—ˆπ—π—…π—’ π–½π–Ύπ—Œπ–Όπ–Ύπ—‡π–½π—‚π—‡π—€ π—‚π—‡π—π—ˆ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋  

𝖫𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 π–Ύπ—‡π—€π—Žπ—…π–Ώ π—’π—ˆπ—Ž 𝗂𝗇 π—‚π—π—Œ π—ˆπ—π—‡ 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 π—ˆπ–Ώ 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾  

π–¦π—ˆπ—‚π—‡π—€ π–½π—ˆπ—π—‡ 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 π—Œπ—…π—ˆπ—π—…π—’ π—Œπ—ˆπ—†π–»π–Ύπ—‹ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 π—’π—ˆπ—Ž 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 π—‚π—‡π—π—ˆ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ocean's π—π–Ίπ—Œπ— π—…π–Ίπ—π—‚π—Œπ—π—‡π–Ύπ—Œπ—ŒΒ Β 

π–Έπ—ˆπ—Žπ—‹ 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 π—‹π–Ύπ–Ίπ–Όπ—π–Ύπ—Œ π—Žπ—‰ π–»π—Žπ— π—’π—ˆπ—Žπ—‹ π–»π—ˆπ–½π—’ π—„π–Ύπ–Ύπ—‰π—Œ 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 π–½π—ˆπ—π—‡, π–Ώπ–Ίπ—π—‚π—€π—Žπ–Ύπ–½ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 π—†π–Ίπ—Œπ—Œ π—ˆπ–Ώ π—π—‹π–Ίπ—‡π—Šπ—Žπ—‚π—…π—‚π—π—’ 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 π—‹π–Ύπ—Œπ—π—Œ 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋

π–²π—π—ˆπ—‚π–Ό π–Ίπ—Œ π—’π—ˆπ—Ž π—Œπ–Ύπ–Ύ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 π—€π—…π—‚π—†π—‰π—Œπ–Ύ π—ˆπ–Ώ 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 π—‡π—ˆπ— 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍  

π– π—Œ π–»π—Žπ–»π–»π—…π–Ύπ—Œ 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍 π—Žπ—‰ π—’π—ˆπ—Žπ—‹ π—‡π—ˆπ— π—Œπ—π–Ίπ—π—‚π–Ό 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 π–½π–Ύπ—‰π—π—π—Œ
Some live deep in the ocean
Some lost at sea

Some live on the surface
Shallow as can be

Some live in the mountains
Still and free

Some live in the skies
Dreaming on marshmallow clouds

Then there’s me
A touch of deep
A breath at the surface
A trance at the mountains
A dream in the skies

Then there’s me
A canvas of colors
Never fitting in anywhere
Jumping between galaxies
Lake view from
Beech canopy.

Legs, arms, enwrap
Broad trunk and
Ascend unlike any bird since
Dodo.

Sun through beaten
Coppered leaf-set.

Fair Day
With tall grass,
Bedded moss beneath

My seat of rooted
Contemplation
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