Squarely paced, life steps alongside itself,
traipsing slowly like churned butter, creating newly
made spaces of time in unknown hemispheres –
controlling moments of this world.
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Settling into a mood of rhetoric, sliding across my mind, hoping to meet any number of episodes of thought, giving me fuel for many a night.
Never hurrying, taking beats slowly through rhythmic lines.
Shadows hiding beneath the chairs.
out from under and thinking ofthings to do in their boredom ofwaiting for life to move on.
Silently, stilly, occupying a seat in backgrounds of eternity, preferring to exist in a blank space with no contact from anyone.
Collecting every intuitive thought, gathering it in at the seams, just to let off steam.Yet, the anger is still fuming inside, taking me down trails I’d prefer never to stroll.Would rather be writing about something peaceful, instead here is a poem of angry distaste.
Striking distance filling me with angry blows to my intellect, laying me low in an antagonistic forest of life.
Solidly posing for another photographic memory, listening to thoughts picture words for me.Showing lasting figures of difficulty as I feel through a pressure of being.
Feeling hurt and bruised from a friendship
now am being buried alive by it’s injusticeand betrayal.Noticing it at every turn, not understandingwhy it happened, going from total joy to utterdisappointment in the person I thought wouldbe a lasting friend in final days of life.
Life stands still for no one,
fulfilling individual’s fate and circumstances.Noticing illusory images standing always on edges,waiting to be seen and become existent.Troubling only as minute shadows of death’s earlycalling we attempt to ignore it’s presence until weare finally called to answer.