The collective fog ensnares my view
claustrophobia wants to peel the hairy spider legs
free to climb further in to the own sphere
as light in the dark, change fills the sight
and shakes the bones of wanton lust
on top of a cloud I see the bottom of a soil
which stubbornly holds on to a mist of denial.
It was not silk in your voice
nor sadness
only a moist pitch of the ego
where you deceived yourself in a replay when you spoke to me
and what you wanted
you never knew yourself.
Swooshing thoughts from past times
how life adjures its hike
and burns
in its uttermost refined art of a concept
divulge me
find me in the cave
of burning tears fleeing over the water
collected in a container behind eyelids
life, give of the hand throwing a dice
livelihood unknown
without which a captive is released
thought’s prison behind the curtain
as an outpost of control
as an escape from life itself
in adaptation
the outfit is adhered by the wave that chose me
identifying my second skin which is no longer a protection
wear of the weight that prevents a soul to glimmer
in a pond in the forgotten land
lives the one I seek.
