Motionless

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


It all starts with a tiny grain of sand.

Submitted: July 01, 2018

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Submitted: July 01, 2018

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Motionless.

Would you see the calm drowsy-buzzing sound of my quiet imagination, as I attempt to awaken, while shivering and blowing upon my starved away fingers, warmth; scaring away the cold with my all-telling tongue, back to life ?

Unbending, naked and destitute.

This constructive anger, defies the hatred of this deconstructive emotion.

Motion.

Undulating waves of flexible sober blue and yellow, the goodliest scenes, seen from a distance, turn green, as I move.

Diamond shape tropical flowers grow across my skin like a varicose reminder upon this shell, as I wash myself up onto the abundant glassy shore, clean and free; opened and shucked.

Echoed, recorded and bitter with a salty brine of literary catacombs.

This sensation gives pleasure, whispering a language of love that is never too loud.

 Motionless.

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.

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