disassemble your parts
what are you in there
the jenga tower of nervy pieces
chain reaction machine
partly flow the spores
the drifting wind of tone
there is no time in place
unscrew the hunger
No answer.
Just the ringing empty
of the thanatoic sandworms
piling on the sweaters
against the cold of nothing
there is no love drifting
no peace or pain
the mind throws strange images
unrestrained its parts not imagined
it‘s something you do
not something that happens
your understory unlike the clock-world we built
we are stranger
img: http://www.flickr.com/photos/borkazoid/5434722774/sizes/l/in/photostream/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/squeakywheel/103778100/sizes/l/in/photostream/
Lost in Mist 
Reblogged this on Mindfire Cantata and commented:
2013 post I stumbled on sometime back … no time to review 900 posts, so not sure how many gems & how much dreck is buried in their…. click on the archive or the tag cloud, somebody, let me know..
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