A walk in the woods. Thunder in the distance. Lighting dancing, edging dark clouds. Soft rain thru the pines. Boughs dripping in the pond. Birds sounding bird talk. Many languages to be heard. Frogs in the pond announcing their attendance.
It was night sin of domesticity. Dyed, I am loading the white secret of pain in the hollow of a mayhem. Till every blunder takes a downward flight striping the outsized image of a kill. His flames are now singeing
Wondering through life blindly Looking for resolutions, that will certainly never come With no real direction, assurance or assistance Roaming aimlessly about through life Drifting here and there and to and fro Walking down dark hallways with no exits Stuck