The Pains of Neutral

There are eccentricities about time that many… will never get.

Similar to chasing the family pet.

imageedit_8_2028553240There is a mortal need to have it all around.

Thou, it is injured and too tightly wound.

 

It may surface that there are brisk critics regaled  for being too passionately black.

And, those willing to make the ‘devil’s pact.’

 

As followed, before, the ache arrived, minutes filled the air.

As original as, the snowflakes in which we place our grateful cares.

Mind over the matters of time.

The pain of neutral.

No joy from fast forward or rewind.

 

For myself, revelations, on a dusky December day,

That, I too, conceded,

from the comfort of living in the in between.

 

There had been a frozen dust to the air.

It covered my tracks…

Or, considerate me…

I found myself not lost…for I never looked back.imageedit_6_4922132711

Sense and Susceptibility

 

 

escapades 5

We are all tempted by a grand design…

Something of an imaginary kind…

Incense so zealous…yet, not ours to find.

A pungent temptress.

An oak’s sweetness…

A nutmeg sheltered in bitterness.

digrese 1

After the hibernation, when frolic peppers the air.

It is there.

It is there.

Looking In with Outside Eyes

I look at the faces of those I have yet to meet…

and, with their sheltered glance back.

100_1215I wonder what it is they see.

Solitary in this chilled climate.

My greeting of gratitude have loss their appeal.

The slow melt of morning’s snow.

These ‘one size’ fits all deceits…are all mine.

Looking in with outside eyes.

I have no time for a complacent mind.

The Pains of Neutral

There are eccentricities about time that many… will never get.

Similar to chasing the family pet.

imageedit_8_2028553240There is a mortal need to have it all around.

Thou, it is injured and too tightly wound.

 

It may surface that there are brisk critics regaled  for being too passionately black.

And, those willing to make the ‘devil’s pact.’

 

As followed, before, the ache arrived, minutes filled the air.

As original as, the snowflakes in which we place our grateful cares.

Mind over the matters of time.

The pain of neutral.

No joy from fast forward or rewind.

 

For myself, revelations, on a dusky December day,

That, I too, conceded,

from the comfort of living in the in between.

 

There had been a frozen dust to the air.

It covered my tracks…

Or, considerate¬†me…

I found myself not lost…for I never looked back.imageedit_6_4922132711