After reading the sensory logs by m1dn1ght mus1ngs, I’ve been interested in practicing those sorts of exercises in my own land, but I suppose poetry rules my brain, so this is what emerged while cooling my heels in the school library before class.


Murmurs rumble the slow library air
sleep creeps in behind me, music turned down low
feet planted in the ground
waiting patiently, my roots spiral into the earth
tangle themselves among the soil-bound bones,
the cemetery beneath our tree lives
soft murmur floats across the air
stagnant air, no windows in here
silent sleepers absorbing knowledge
through papered comrades surrounding
between our ears, laced oak and feathered fiber
the most complicated matter in this known universe
static psychic wires strung haphazardly through the air
we, collective community of like minds
acrylic scribbles; like a child’s coloring book
marking each segment of our lives
dissect the worm, see it’s blood blue
recycled back into the hallowed ground amongst our twisted collector’s hands
needing, needing, interacting, breeding
murmuring our hollowed out shells
attempting electric creations of fire, light
but only subdued sparks flutter from our worn feet
dragged smart across the checked floor
planet runs round, wires cut and crossed
murmurs fading and building up again
words found, and words lost
hearts won, broken
lives felled by the whispered ax’s blade
the final end brought on by a weathered gust
of neighboring wind
arisen through the cracked grounds
of knowledge— dead.


2 thoughts on “disenchanted

  1. shiningcityonthehill says:

    A great piece. It works well as a continuous stream of thought, in a moment rather than a traditionally structured piece. I love it.

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