Clear is the sky
Humid is the feel
Suffocating is the air
But the morbid beauty
Of the stale water
Mesmerizes the soul.
Visitations to its doorsteps
Are an addiction of the senses
The untouched solitude
Welcomes the wanderer
The unholy embrace
Detaches the senses.
The uncanny rebellion
comforts reality
And to inhale
Only intoxicates
The experience.
2 comments:
This makes me want to make a trip to Missouri.
Does rebellion have a face?
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