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Fifteen minutes had wasted bu from sitting here,
struggling to find the right words to fill this page up with.
I'm stuck with these voices--but, looking upside down, they look like they are stuck to me, getting between the way of my thoughts and the heart.
I can't find a clarion picture above the clear foggy clouds,
blurring the sun away when I am already vogued.
I feel sweltered,
But in a way where it's only a symptom to the Waverly, deep- thoughts that continues to dwelt.
The pulsating veins that declares to rise,
but also cease from it's wave.
I close my eyes
trying to accept the art of letting go--
and starting over,
but it has already contradicted from seconds before start.
I toss back my mind of intervene , where I am already amidst into a room
where not only darkness shines,
but also where darkness whines,
when I fold back the vines.