…Sipping from my soul trying to grab whole of that last lil bit of me, not the one that happens everyday and they pretend to see but the real he that knows of his journeys foe; an existence of resistance. I’m often reminded of the words of the Wise Lion: You’re running and you’re running and you’re running away but you can’t run away from yourself. Stealing silence by stealth, my demons hide in plain sight only revealing themselves by the light of the dark night leaving me to piece together the sorted dreams…how real they seem.
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Reblogged this on A Poets Suppose and commented:
Why poets not posts although i imagine it could work both ways… I really need an editor ( Inquire within) never been much for staying inside the lines coloring and i think rules of grammar are trumped by effective communication, that is to say if you know what I mean does it really matter that a comma is missing… having said all that i do apologize to those who swear by the red pen…I hope to see you again.
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