The rigor of moving forward has my eyes tied shut and my hands covered
The embalming fluid clouding my mind couldn't make me any more dead seriousIn a freeze frame my writer's block contains no subtitles just subtle movements to project slow motionParalyzing paradigm placing parabolic parameters putting peace and rage in an unlikely bind Two faced I am both mad and sad pouring a bubonic mixture of emotion into these dark pagesRummaging through punnet squares I arrive at the block of red eyes, a home inherited by family tiesI put a letter into bottled emotion and mailed it off into sound waves, hoping my four dimensional sun catches my driftPeace Isa