Ang’s Eye Is Itchy
written by: Michael Shea
@calmsbehaviour
Sands?
Hour glasses?
Who are we kidding?
Time comes in waves of boulders,
slamming into us and sending us skidding; down,
forever down to that ending.
The suffering interspersed with joyous moments so soon; too soon,
wending a vexatious tunnel of love filled pain straining and bending under the sufferance
of mercilessness; tortuously rending us apart and yet we do our part from the very start,
until the end do us part.
Breathing in two three out two three let the fizz die down two three blue pills
one two three, that’s the trick for me you see and stop, it’s Miller time.
This bud’s for you, what no capital B you see cause this bud is from a tree you see, two three.
Calm before the storm the walls are building up again the sound just round the bend,
white noises like a thousand rats scratching to get out what I put in; what’s left to defend?
Sand in a glass which is ironically made from sand, changed by subjugation of alteration
In fire or by fire; a process that forms something else but one so dire,
transpire I’d rather not.
Who am I kidding?
Here comes the next wave so stiffen those shoulders,
this is never ending and it’s tearing me apart.
- Extinction Revolutions - September 6, 2019
- Being - June 27, 2019
- Soft Death With Resurrection and Reflection - March 18, 2019
