Lying and Dying


There are lines to this scarcity.

Hidden obstacles filled with joyless doubt.

Now that I am in…the dead air is coming out!

A covert world we all must go thru…

and, the question remains…

‘Will I have the courage to go without you?’

The grass beaded with dew and the…aromatic earth…

does not quench my soul as it used to.

Lying and dying have become art forms.

A certain style giving unto…laughing…crying.

Courage in the blinding light of day can whisk the unthinkable webs away.

Nonetheless, the night…with its sporadic fits of sleep…

Still begs for valor’s retreat.

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