ripple in the fabric of equilibrium

being ripped apart. stellar talcum powder courses through fatigued veins is this the final hit the tide ebbs and then surges again solitude has become an all too welcome companion fingers unable to move properly groping for the next landing closed eyes ten blind mice on a keyboard of incertitude where is it all seeping away to the walls are crumbling time is an inpatient constructor immolates the house while the residents awaken slowly to the searing flames the pot comes to a boil and lemon grass galanga lime leaves vent their subtle fumes the lamp has been rubbed the genie is immersed in a lack of wishes to grant and the effervescent cloud slowly dissolves into a shape of a hapless figure looking forlorn and bewildered direction lost he is helpless he says nothing to be done the conclusion forgone sit back and relax lean back into the rhythm of the wind allow it to throw you about and let it settle you will be able to pick up your pestle find your mortar add the spices and brew your curry

tripping through the morning wealth of early winter light bewildered by earphones blaring destructive yet releasing powder down by aural canal the ships pass through slowly in imaginationland where past and present and possibilities coalesce into a perpetual sentiment of perfection that is only slightly dented by the scent of last night's sweet-sweet rot of long fallen autumn leaves if there is an oblivion-like bliss i am edging towards it