Slits, that which I’m looking through
The sun burns my corneas
A furrowed brow, now, where did I put my glasses?
Oh yeah, on top of your head, I’m so absent-minded.
Now that I can see the half-light, I’m in awe.
Mother earth brings splendid gifts,
Those gifts are what I search for through my ocular orbs when my head screams.
I hear you; I hate you; I need you, all the same.
From a bruised mouth purse, laps the tongue of the devil and through the enamel centerpiece an armored grin.
Gnaw at them until you are heard
Grind their names so they are etched in your warm breath as it is expelled into the cold night air.
Then forgive them for their ignorance.
The half-light brings about so many possibilities.
CRIMSON QUINTESSENCE 2018.
Original written work by Gillian Gibson aka Crimson Quintessence 2018.
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