Emerging (10)
By Stephen Martin
Of intersections,
Flaked and blood dead,
Pooled in the moments,
Falling down the never
Ending.
Parted my third eye,
Like a fly’s eye,
Prismed through timidity,
I was blinded by the
Overwhelming
Obstacles
Of choice.
Like a spear
I pierced the night in my secrets,
I shepherded
The lost spoons
Into their
Cereal bowls.
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