Ill-lumed air
Reality blends
Impressionism
Paper canvas in waiting
Anxieties are borders
Think . . .think . . . kniht
Weave endless words
Into a flock of
Woven winless birds
That coo through an after-hour clock
Tap . . . tap . . . pat
Beat a broken body
As its forced to
Brace and bear birth
To a ballad set in course by you
You . . . you . . . you
Exhale is exquisite
As the impression
Blends reality
Into my word-back obsession
I light another candle to breathe.
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