I went into the words to find me
Lockdown had left me quarantine quiet
Mind saturated stillness
Chitchat silenced
Meditationless
I tried to form a word
Out of the nothingness
Tong stuck to the ruff of my mouth
The N of N-ext stuck there pressing
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I stand on the edge. There is the sand, sky, sea and me. Heals sink in with each retracting wave. Pulling me out one grain of sand and salted sea at a time. Clouds shift overhead. The light bright then dim. The silent rhythm of drifting clouds. Accompanied by the arrhythmic percussion of the sea. Ocean crashing into quarts fills my head.
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Death and love and death and love and love and death is all there is holding flesh to bone - bone to breath - to blood.
Words splash out crash out of this inked pen.
Descriptions of ideas, perceptions.
Only known to my insides, known by no others exactly as me or I, them.
Still, communication flows, one to the other, believing that we are understood.
Misunderstood most of the time, time tells.
What was grasped or passed over?
Time tells.
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Dwindling and diminishing
The art of disappearing
Becoming the invisible
Time wickedly taking
Faking a lived life
Passed from moment to moment
Disguised by dreams
Fancy flesh decaying
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