Wincing at the light, I deprive myself;
Take in an uneven frame.
With lowered brows and interminable thoughts
I pass it all by,
Float and reflect on the detail
Never seen,
Convinced I experienced it all,
Scratching in the rest;
I tear in the blue sky and smear the
Breaking waves;
I become more an object of scorn as the greens
And greys of the cliff side are marred,
Framed in the corner of an eye.
I have a tendency to get stuck in my head while I'm out. I have trouble switching off and taking everything in. I call myself an observer but miss so much due to an over-active head. This was written about how much I missed the last time I took a long cliff walk near where I live on a nice day not so long ago. I gleaned nothing worthwhile from my absence that day, or any other.
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