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Jun 2020
As we sit here and strain our brains
Imagining, how could such inane things
Be defined, as anything other than profane
Could it be I'm just insane, or
Are the details only but a distant memory
Traces of strange faces
Faint images of kinfolk, who joke
An old trace of what's unseen by thee
Estranged behind the smoke
Take it in then make it float
And now they're awoke
Weather welcomed or snook in
No matter if they mock or mope
They maintain the design
Between an invisible line
Called what they let us see
And what we spoke
How astonishingly wicked it may seem to be, to recognize such hard to explain queries
Transmitted from one form to the next
Disintegrate, then reshape and rise as planned
Organized thoughts followed by polluted fog
As it settles in the middle looking back at us
Either their sinister or they giggle
as we gaze into their crystal ball of vapory expressions
Process of breakdown tries to take you down
With impossibilities hard to even speak about
Safe to say we all agree to keep it in order
Leave it be so recovery won't need to be
One two three, therefore you see
This design ranks mighty high somewhat like glee
Major factor in this, isn't the higher I get
It's as I inhale each hit I am being equipped with heightened senses Relentless against outside interference
Considering element of time restraint
Likely to influence hindrance on today's to do list
Which will warrant such mental analysis Wit thought intelligence, hah
Being is such a mere fragment of life
Inside imagination, any privileged would and will see eye to eye while undercover Patiently waiting for the perfect exit, or is it entrance
Be it coming or leaving its a secret
Shh.. please aint no repeating this
Yes you're on the guest list
And I suggest you stay in line
There is no set order, in which we smolder
To set trapped souls free as we breathe

Breeze May
Written by
Breanna Lowney
243
   Kenshō
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