Tuesday, March 14, 2017
I stared at the ceiling
trying to make out sentences
through the endless wrinkles
but found only the monotonous words
willing to show,
in the swirling and shifting space
of my imagination
forming from the whites and hues of gray
I found the absolution of my existence.
What I thought the world was
a mastery of creation
willing only to show
the reflections of my own memories.
I only saw what I've already seen,