Thursday, September 15, 2011

Waning Crescent

Flooding until my tip toes
       grace the skimming surface,
       as the beaming orange beacon
       waves the crescive guilt.
It folds over,
       gently tumbling until
       the vicious reality sinks--a beaten track.
Rising until it strikes the surface
      fizzle, to eruption
      denial, to justification.
My blind eye disentangles the obscurity
       and the pixelations form a rough outline
       painting an image of sufferance.

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