Clandestine Lunacy/Vulnerability

Memoirs of all things


As expectation meet

in worn and solemn



The cosmos finds us,

looking over

turned back, shoulders


All the different things

feel the same

Each one less of

a shadow than what it

once was


The feelings kept their depth


And in beauty

Beneath that lime

lamp shade


Repeating these

sublime realities

Explicitly now

Our expectations



Neither ashed, nor told

The soul’s door is ajar

For those who seek inadequacy


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