Untitled, original poem #12

feeling without desire
destination bound
blind slow-motion racing
 without a driver
on the trail of oblivion
like a stuffed up or crippled
 bloodhound scriber
no expectations
breathing slow summer turmoil
 through a rain stained window
my mind is a star-borne
 wandering choir
no aspirations
writing what i want
no caps or strapped creation
downing dreams of lethargy
 like a natural libation
no expectations
no aspirations
just my choir

and the troubled summer winds

*
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Author: Transdimensional Poet

Poet, Transdimensional explorer, fisherman.

2 thoughts on “Untitled, original poem #12”

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