Some nights the shadows gather, some days the sun won't call. The grind of nameless days, the set mathematics of seamless obscurity and alienation that grants you false names and forgets both virtue and vice, the claim set upon your soul by liars and cannibals all work you like freshly sharpened teeth. Like stakes destined to answer that fudged question of eternity. Semi -colons and exclamation points, the sparse punctuation of your failing equilibrium. Dead eyes and riotous streets, poems and vacillations and all the other metrics left bereft of any soul. Sleep is lost, and wakefulness a debt that never seems to settle.
renna:
Thank you for the beautiful poetic comment on my new set!