Unfound

Nobody really knows
Nobody can peel
Or grate
The layers
Away
Nobody can look
Find
The underneath
The inside
It’s too damaged
Too complex
Soul-encompassing curtains
Slide across
To reveal
Nothing
The stage is full
Of black-painted windowsills
Which come to show more windows
Behind more curtains
Truth disloyal
Still all-veiled.

Don’t Panic

DON’T PANIC.
Really now, don’t panic. Does writing to yourself constitute panicking? Just don’t do it. There. No. Don’t panic.

Words are Jumble
Words are fun,
especially when they dart meaningless dagger-points at unsuspecting pages of a book of SANITY.

So, don’t panic.

Oh look! A potato!!!

Oh look! A potato!!!
So velvety
So porous
Mutilated
a la knife and fork
Fork and knife
Knife and spoon
Piercing through the coagulated meaty sauce
Fleshy find
Mash it
Smash it
Play with it in your fingers
Toss it through
the un-transparent window.
Through the broken-glass.

Find it in your sleep
And dream of mushy landscapes.

Written by: Flameheart

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