SAD


At some point the ambiance of the dark, wears off.

And, you are left with complete ambivalence.

No passion for the ash.

In the distance, amassed above the ivory crests,

a supposed bloomed best.

Fixture places

without faces.

Dreams-capes without imagination.

Nature’s starting line with particular designation.

Stilled wickedness, coming with heavy indignation.

Not a one or a two, hero.

Not a one or a two, villain.

But a village full of complacent combatants.

SAD in a shot glass.

SAD in a long winter’s nap.

SAD brindled tree trunks that have snapped.

Cold moments with drunken nursery rhymes.

Imbibed adieu’s bidding the SAD days,

til springtime.

left
These are objects you see when look at them differently. These are objects you see when you look at them the same as always. These are the objects that make up our life!

 

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