Immaculate Stagnate

Immaculate

Spotless imagination, I wander through my mind. There’s nothing here but breeze, and I tire as I try. To find a place, to feel a trace, of the wonder I once wandered, and of the freedom I did find.

Terrors here are blunder, I get turned again under. The tide rises up, my board dives to plunder, ready or not, my ass was washed asunder. Carry me, care for thee, where my mind froze, I wonder, “Is there ice here, or my brain holding thunder?”, then “Can I squeeze together everything that I had, more than I was, desire is my plunder, but what chance of my freedom, there now wrapped into my summer”. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. Tear me up now and let me show, my shine is free, my sun is me, and where my heart left to set her down, forgetting about the bout. One soul there, another inside, will I wrap my brain around her, and kill the bird who does not fly. Or will I hold my light, a mirror to show, reveal to us both the care of the world and the shadows that know.

Not to be seen, senseless adream – oceans turn on sea, and salt washes the wound clean. Won’t you hold my hand, these missing pieces adorn, a world once made of sand – I’m leaving the scorn. A place to be beckoned, to be seen as a storm. Tear me down world, and let me live as unborn.

I’m wrought I thought to naught of sought where ought be taught and languish language caught. Be free to ride, skyborn where dreams – a vision of faeries – are life born in seam.

Traces are planted where eyes cannot see, my mind watches scarcely for things made between. The other side of turnsides, where bridges are brought down, reaching out for the sky, never leaving the ground. Burn, burn, burn me around, and leave the leaves to each other, only as one would dare be ground. Her grocery stores bore holes where hearts discern more, my mother broke her womb to carry the crowd home. She finds a new blossom, and tears the stem free from the yoke – there are missions to plunder what will never be found.

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