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kenpepitonPoems
set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew. Locked in isolated for the incubation of whatever they they they, these masked  others, I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out, where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs to the edge of brows, still effectively arching, one by one in some models of these hoo-min… beings whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is working… Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam slipping past the shades, see, there in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self, might I extract my self and leave you wishing for more?
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Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC
Quarantine, in the nursing home
set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew. Locked in isolated for the incubation of whatever they they they, these masked  others, I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out, where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs to the edge of brows, still effectively arching, one by one in some models of these hoo-min… beings whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is working… Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam slipping past the shades, see, there in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self, might I extract my self and leave you wishing for more?
-- I got a techsupport call from a fading friend who forgot his pin, as if he knew, I would remember all he has forgotten, we have a trust, he and I... I knew he would forget.
#senile#while#others#laugh#learn
kenpepiton
Written by
kenpepiton
77/M/Pine Valley CA
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC
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