it's blue where the robins lay their eggs
so the eggs themselves are blue; the nest,
not being blue, can only long to become
a comrade of the grass again. the grass is
something only wishing to be cut,
the lawnmower only wishes to be fueled
(by what?) and worms find themselves
through the pores of the skin of the flaky
earth below. rigidity is a form of division
that splits apart no self but others only.

Grapes
crushed.
Forming new
shapes.

4.8
escape.
AM
again.

Square
life.
Breathing
air.

How to E S C A P E and be F A I R ?

White and yellow.
Empty mind.
Light sounds.
Shadows written in the nouns.

The blues.
A swinging tune.
Blue notes.
Sailing boats.

Tones swirling.
Shapes floating.
Trapped mind.
Everything lined.

A passive state.
Coming late.
Let me be the bait.
This is your fate.

Children  encased  in  steel  structures,  while  their  parents ­ stand,

Holding  metal  square  leashes, screens  glaring  white  while they

Idle,  shadows  of  their  faces  concealed  by  light,  while ­ teachers

Around  human  squares  circle.  A  student  watches  woody  tr­ees,

Roots  unseen,   branches  neatly  trimmed  like hedges,   no  leaves  

On  the  ground  below, but  shadows  cast  by  sunlit  branche­s. He

Sympathises  with  his  like,  both  in  a school and unseenly rooted,

Confined  to  a  square.  The  overflow  is  cut  to  fit, laid  bare, seen

Under  fluorescent   light,   blinding  whiteness  of  his  blank  script

Reflecting  nothing  of  shadows  he  collects  and  cultivates­,   hides,

Overflowing  from  the  broken  branches  that  he  keeps  in his bed.

It was like an abyss.
Swirling with emptiness,
Consuming.
Black nothingness.
The color was like dark ink on white paper,
Slowly creeping across untouched perfection,
Staining the starkness.
It reminded me of a lionfish,
Slow and poisonous.
Reaching 300 feet,
The sun still breaks the surface with it's tendrils moving with the ocean,
Scattering patterns,
Creatures,
The vulnerable into a predators' jaws.
The deep dark.
Where the fear of emptiness waits,
Where the sun cannot reach,
Rushing water filling your lungs,
Where lungs cannot be lungs but filled with that dark ink.
Your lungs thin as paper,
Stained by the cold currents that continue to fill the empty space.
Paralyzed while everything turns black.