around like a bad odor... we peer into
the night with cat eyes, hearing more
than we actually see... clinging to
night sounds as if they were the lyrics
of poets floating around in a cosmic
consciousness... rumors beget rumors
but we only listen to those thoughts
that manage to break through evil's
dark shadows that lurk inside the
crevices of our dormant personalities;
we slide into night's waltz like strangers
whose dance card is vacant... rooms of
gloom parade by us while we walk the
halls of someone else's imagination
that has invaded our space... silos of
contentment looms over the moods that
we dress in hoping that recognition breeds
more satisfaction than we have given up
in lieu of waiting for the morning sun.
17 July 2022
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