Corners Untouched by Madness
The kettle's hiss like snakes closer and further from wisdom. The leaves like memories beneath the water tumbling.
I visited six service stations in corners untouched by madness, the hatred of plastic freudian secrets like torn glove box prescriptions.
I crashed in an outskirt field where snowflakes cursed your name silently. Clarity is a term for mendicants knowing ugly impending truths.
Remembering now the hours spent driving insane without you, I cried tonight alone caressing your genius.
- July 14, 2014. -