Drip Drip Drip

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Poetic Dreamers


Your head is dark and it is damp
There are strange spirals in which echoes lose themselves
Did you make these? Did these make you?
Your head is dark and it is damp
I am lonely here, but not alone
I feel concern, but not fear
I am a ghost of color, disparate of myself
Seeking chains and, through them, freedom
My body is wind and shadow
Drifting dreamlike in a country gasping for breath
Your head is dark and it is damp
Damp with tears and persperation
The residue of transient "genius"
That flighty mist wishing itself water
Water that falls, free of cavernous infinitude
Free to nourish the world
I am the bastard of genius
A thought with the audacity to assume purpose
A wellspring of doubt but all charm on the surface
A word, inkslung or spoken, built to infer this
Riot of language, the war of mind revamped
Am I seeming solid now? For now it feels cramped
In this head of yours, dark and damp


Submitted: October 17, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Christopher Flood. All rights reserved.

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