Portraits.
The screech owl,
Scathes her awake in darkness.
Waking up from screams.
And dreams.
And worlds, worlds away;
Around.
I float, sort of,
In the middle-veil..
The "spaces between"
The so to speak..
And taking that walk now, it is dark out like a deep blue filter hazing
And yet, all the pinks
Pop most of all...
And it's Glorious,
The walk alone.
This seems to be the half of which
My life is shaded over.
Shades of light;
Shades of grey.
It hasn't even reached noon...
And it feels like I am walking
For Deathbed.
Submerge into a tub at boil.
That is where I'll be.
These danced limbs
And sad body-
I simply submerge
For trade.
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