I have a sense of awe for the invisible -I decided I needed a space to organize my thoughts, as they have become louder and louder as time passes by. The urgency to write - how ever persistent - doesn't overpower the urgency to tell. I have my journal, it's in my desk. But it serves only as a tableau for a collection of dust bunnies.
the camera's anatomy trying to get through the poignant strains of all living creatures
against the blur of a transparent axis
the space between is filled with wholly visible camouflage
cameras travel through the sweetly scented winds of my spine.
It is not as if I didn't try. I tried as hard as one could possibly hope for. But simply typing up bottled feelings are faster than my ability to pen them.
Here am I again.
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