the unrepentant refusal
to don designations other than
what was bestowed
the instant a semblance had crystallized
- this - has been the caustic knock
of the smelling salts for me today I should reckon.
stirring me up and then luring me out of the saccharine-like slumber, so my eyes could be seared through beholding the fears they had prayed they could always be blind to.
And the inner Thoth sloth, doth maketh so pleasurable, for that which long since should have slipped away shrouded in silence.
Words - Ben NCM
Image - Hilary Cowtown
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