Perspective is subjective when subjected to perception

where are you, enclosed space?
where traces were lost in tides,
where colour was naïve,
where silence was no more but true to itself.

mislead me o vanity,
or maybe the neighbor beside true blue,
you don't stereotype, giving is in your blood.
how kind of you.

deprived aren't you now,
the growing end with the occasional darling,
blatant lies of postcard views,
a wishing well of open ends,
but she will come visit one day,
you are after all, the charming Self.


'I've not seen you in awhile.
my disappearance, thank goodness'

Its getting old you messed up soul

Collectively,
dire heat and noisome fumes,
bleached off those bloody tiles,
or from what that doesn't matter.

Collectively,
a scheduled try and routine bless,
was an effort that preached waste,
on waste.

Collectively,
that warm tea and sidelined scone,
drew up sleepless afternoons
with a moldy finish.

Collectively,
those nights with Orion and dampered reeds,
laid out a spread for the hungry,
and poisoned the greedy.




you lonely constellation,
their views scarred you.