It’s the Thought that Counts

00-Lumber-House

 

The air was green

The earth was lent

of suffering, seclusion, Ulyssus T. Brent.

Air from the North

Whence eaten from grain

In hindsight a niggle, a giggle, some pain.

Regardless of truths

Of lasting fruition

Of blindness and Alzheimer’s the blame falls 

than CRASH

Nothing, no one, blind sight 

No regard

No laughing, no lugging

A purple guitar.

Sunrise confusion,

Lastness and grain

The ultimate retrieval

A hard drive

Insane.

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About Miranda S. Wrightz

I breath one breath at a time, like a normal mermaid.

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