It flickers in backgrounds
of silence
and emptiness
As we wait
with bait
(ed)
breath
For it to
take us
To worlds
of words
carefully
crafted
manufactured
and structured
into entire constellations
made of
calculated impressions
and fleeting gratification
As we
watch ourselves
fall
into walls
That reflect
each
and
every
one
of
them
As ones turn
into twos
and twos
to
threes
and threes
to
fours
As we
For
ages
forage
through lines and feeds
Feeding
ourselves
More and more
and then
when we think
we’ve had enough
and heard enough
slightly more
Till
we begin
to feel
like
we can’t
feel anymore
like
we can’t
react
to
the exhaustion
and constipation
Till
we begin
to feel
(To feel!)
Like
like
like
Like:
Is this everything
?
Slowly falling
and fading
into
hesitations
that
cut through
consellations
of
calculated impression
Leaving
behind
scars of
our sanity
in their own darkness
Grinding
then
pouring
their remnants
into segments
Of
nothingness
_
What was I running away from?
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 