The frail man

Beyond anger and beyond fear the night have been for me. It’s been star-smoking for almost 20 hours. There’s a spiral of both desire and reality in front of me where light from a source that was long gone shed it’s dim and half-dead illumination.

It was welcoming albeit such source and walking down that narrow road shaved off from the blades of your voice was hard enough let alone paving my way at night.

A ghosts around me fade away by that illumination that they fear the spiral of immiscible nature. The yawns that they breathe gave me chills. My hair stood and that was all. A smokey revolution as these apparitions swirled beside me as if they were guiding me. It was a skeptical thought to willingly let them pave my way but I did not know where to go.

There was no light that seemed real. Broken glass surround me; painful and dead like the creek that laid so flat and still.

I’m continuing to walk ever so frail with ghosts that made me feel as if I was drifting.

I’m yawning to the death of the frail reality.  Ghosts of immiscible nature, bring me all of your desires.

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