Smiling,I stare at it's exciting,inciting beauty,
the rivlets of blue,green fluidity,smashing
into brown solid crevices of actual-
ity, in the distance,yet another
darker brown outline,rigid &
shapeshifting,inside the white,blue ether
& there is no sun in its framework,
I assume,in its mystery,
horrible prisons of dreams unrealized,
deep with in its substructure
on a white-wall-forgotten piece of joy,
I sleep under, losing all sense of its
presence, THERE, a reminder lost in pocket-thoughts,
& wasted on my futility of optic conception.
I see it, bored,driftwood inside
the seascape, where reality,honesty
begins to torture & then flotsam me
out on it's edge.
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scott waldon