by The Juicer

Continued , A series

Everything, sticks.
The flavors, the stains, the morphology;
The aftermath of impressions,
Hammered and bent,
In Dodo wings
Of reality.

I speak from experience,
Chapters of surrender,
And what becomes
Of me.
But you,
You are here and now –

With your words,
And your parables;
Jousting with attempted flights,
Readied long ago,
Grappling, eagerly?
With dented reflections.

Then I was younger;
And you – older still,
Nursing hues,
Of foul wisdom –
Bestowed upon you,
In incremental imprints.

Let me tell you – This depravity
We share; Is not a cause,
Or a quest: The
Neatly folded pauses,
Stolen punctuations and fantasies,
Loneliness is you and me.