Tiny silver fish writhe,
pavement, iridescent brushstrokes
sun's left, this dreary city
proving visions, mere mirages
metallic bursts of light
on a rain-soaked Ave,
They're not the
only culprits, forging upstream
against nature, against reason
not knowing how or why, or
what lie can I make this time?
what can strip me
of the binds of subsistence? To
whom is this even addressed?
What fame? Glory? could be achieved
as the mire consumes me. ha. I've
been ****** into a puddle
of outbursts, deception
mere mirages,
vision swimming vision swimming vision
swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming vision swimming
You sink into dust. I follow.