In dark crevices of the mind…
speculation, disclosed images, we would rather not find.
Granted, serenity, is just a visual aid.
Perfect pictures of plans made.
Momentary lapses of chips falling where they may.
Sometimes, when waltzing by my inner sanctum.
I witness a world poised in the need to forever look down.
Struck by honesty that only an overhead light can bring.
The ‘all better letter’ will never arrive.
Akin to searching for truth from an abandoned building.
In the asunder, bricks of malice.
Serenity in the shell of recovering.
One day at a time.
One hour at a time.