the sense of touch, fleeting
‘the mind drags on
leaning towards reduction
praying for a reversal
a proposed reasoning,
a disassembled seasoning,
much like the religion
selling ourselves short
used to the purpose
a climbing reluctant
ladder on the edifice
bounds yielding extravagantly
the tissue alarmed
but it knows no other ends
the gifted association
relinquishing all hope
the abandoned wreck
ships imposing meaning
forgive the severed fingers
the sense of touch, fleeting
the nightmare clouds
of apocalypse colors
the absurd touches others’
Posted by :\_khet on July 4th, 2007 in personal afflictions, t for Tocsin.... You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.