Nothing. is. real.
faces on the shaddowed clocks
and someday's sideways looks.
they know it.
knowing burns clean.
it lives in cracks of thoughts
on scraps of promised doubts.
you feel it.
feeling finds you.
frees you from the understood
to peel you of your vatic good.
embrace it.
touching begins.
stretch out your fingered hope
carress this hole inside the known
of lies so old they find a film of feelings
spade-scared-dark below the promised diggings.
open up the reel it's in.
unwrap it's torn cold linen.
it's what you're wanting.
clutch at what's within.
...and know it's Nothing.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
Nothing. is. real.
faces on the shaddowed clocks
and someday's sideways looks.
they know it.
knowing burns clean.
it lives in cracks of thoughts
on scraps of promised doubts.
you feel it.
feeling finds you.
frees you from the understood
to peel you of your vatic good.
embrace it.
touching begins.
stretch out your fingered hope
carress this hole inside the known
of lies so old they find a film of feelings
spade-scared-dark below the promised diggings.
open up the reel it's in.
unwrap it's torn cold linen.
it's what you're wanting.
clutch at what's within.
...and know it's Nothing.
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