Confusion
It's not to be understood.
A hundred revelations, but all just
passing thoughts.
A hundred revelations; not one
a positive, solid reason.
A thousand thoughts, ideas,
excuses, self-told lies...
Nothing solidable.
Nothing trust-worthy.
It's a road leading to
a home.
Dark, empty, almost
deserted.
A sense someone is there,
but not identifiable or solid.
Nothings solid.
Everything an oozing, sticky
liquid flowing and dripping
in existence.
Languid, soft...
Not quite erotic, but characteristic
of eroticism.
Languid, soft, fragrant,
Beautiful.
Never. Reasonable.
Never. Logical.
Grey , Black, very little white.
Everything white.
Everything black.
Everything Grey.
Thud, thud, thud...
Step, step, step...
Fall.
Unreasonable.
Illogical.
Never something tangible, or
touchable.
It holds no meaning, and
holds EVERY MEANING.
Languid and soft.
Not thick, nor thin, nor just
right.
Its own category, its own
collection and taste.
Its own.
A thousand thoughts, ideas,
excuses, self-told lies...
A hundred revelations; not one
a positive, solid reason.
A hundred revelations, but all
just passing thoughts.
It's not to be understood.