Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Kind Psychosis


Still water mirrors dinkum ataraxis. Not ever, it parallels my cornered thoughts. I bunk down on an aqueous bed, in high hopes of clearing the fracas on my crown. Here, quietude is the real McCoy, my poesy, my eremiomania. Still water resembles sense of control. Not ever, it duplicates my immobilized feet. On my back, I fly with dulcet hush. Here, threads evanesce through the altered crystals. I feel my freedom, my kind psychosis.

Tempers fray, not. Never, oh never.


  Location: Palm Beach, Laiya Batangas.
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