Sunday, 3 March 2019

Hurt offerings




I have nothing to say. Mind empty. A long draught of shadow in a creep of formless days. Boundaries blurred, the heart splutters; choked and mad-haunted worry-the emblematic craze. We count the misery in hardened entrails, and hap-hazarding lost ways. Is this my loss of faith? the end of good paths and correct ways?. I feel nothing. I see no one. I bleed into an early grave. Days hounded by the dragnets cold pourings - her off shore colonies with their extended pulls and entries; a languid occupier that just won't leave. My other self, compromised. Soul..Thwarted broke history. She has crossed into me. Some where.  MB.






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