“never
keep a keepsake from a spill that you’ve made”
-hope
sandoval
the
clouds are a shroud covering my mind
the
blue above becoming blind
until
the wind can lend temporary perception
a
cloudless mind is filled with deception
whether
the cloud bursts or just leaks
it
becomes weak
clouds
in tatters
raindrops
shatter
reality
is liquid
it
evaporates, recreates
you
can swim through
dream
blue
when
you need oxygen you resurface
world
without purpose
until
the dream becomes breath
mirrored
lips mean death
reality
skewed by point of view
my
reality is paxilated
fabricated,
inundated
with
fluffy. white. clouds
***
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