(twilight drifting through clouds and a near full moon, two of a series from different directions, causing me to think...like this:
a pause
at the end of the day
to reflect
my personal
tragedy,
surfacing,
the meak enabling
of
my weaker side,
grasping
wrestling
vomiting,
the same things
that i keep
from dealing,
in whispers
all around me,
as if i were open
to suggestion,
everyone keeps speaking
it all fails
and falls
deafly
upon me,
i ?
who i am?
nothing can change that.
i am a bottle.
secure me,
shelf me,
free my contents.
~the artist, known as chris