Misdirection

Is it the culmination or a sound start
of the horrid stench of boredom
the waters here are muddy
and the sun swarmed by avians
Claustrophobic distances stretching out
the weak knots, I'm petrified.

Recognizing self, an enigma
after all, what is self
if not contradictory.

Thoughts etched in your skin
tell me a story about dreams
weave false tales from memory
let me in your paranoia
and praise my protruding flaws
Dissolving our silences away

A walk in the alley,
A trainspotting
A promise to be kept.