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Luc L'arbre May 2013
The smoke curls
      but not as ringlets
        as a mountain stream
            searching for it's lover;
                                     the river
         it dispels and dissipates
   without warning
or clapping of hands
  no incantation
     evenly and solemnly it flows
                         always away
as a dream upon waking
3:47am. God, let me sleep.

Subjectivity peaks
as we do
anger, love and sorrow
a loss of objectiveness
Luc L'arbre May 2013
It seems as if the volume (events, objects, actions) of this container (life) continues to expand (time) while the amount of it's contents (meaning) remains fixed - so like a gas it spreads itself to fill the empty areas of that expansive expanding sphere. When once the container was small (childhood) and the thick smog (meaning) hung heavy amongst and within (events, objects, actions) and perforated and perfumed everything with it's grace and energy; now the vapor is spread thinly, diffused between draping canopies of void.

But for short instances, in a frenzied expansion (something new), this gaseous cloud will rush and clump (a loss of reason), ****** as by a vacuum to fill that new-found cavern (my only muse). Here in these moments of freshness (passion consume me) comes energy and heat as molecule duels molecule - how they fight and tangle their tendrils! jostle for space! collide and separate! bind, release!

Then woe and oh (contemptful contentedness)! The awfulness of entropy (a sudden stop). The waves subside and the sea stills. A lake in stagnation - and was it ever a churning roaring ocean (feeling)?
2.54am. Doleful drawling through doorways calling cigarettes saviours and myself a sinner.

— The End —