:Bed sheets like wire threads:
there is this purpose well driven, hidden behind the sovereign pontification of my ring finger, itching that five star part.
It's reverence, like soluble decadence, showering more than the masticating of thoughts.
our pre determined waves of nostalgic circumstance, cowering, blindly stimulating, all-ways intact.
The curse, void of sun lit shackle, in defiance, our roar springing like accountable mourning.
Because our morning is here.
Pushed onto, Born into this semi confusion, linked by memory of vintage position.
Collapsed recognition by renewal of division.
I sit awaiting the day, you ask of me in silence.
Our chariot of unspoken thrive.
A balance of equivalence.
Our unshared position of sarcastic posture. like rustic annoyance , through shepherds gaze.
I await you in the asking of silence.
- Adam Guerra
Posted 06/12/12
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