Anacoluthon Knights

i can never tell you how displeased readers are by that position the singular moment when nothing makes any sense to them at all but only to a few brilliant pebbles that soar across the night canvas unknown to the dullards of academia it is the ONLY reason i write; to express self to those very few who HEAR ME. the rest are noise and there is no time for wasting one's artistry on rigid brains and stiff necked human-geese. Then again, my imagination never demands an audience of understanding but more of an emotional receptivity. A slumbering shadowy cloud-vignette seeping from a tormented mind onto freshly sliced paper cuts. This is the color red screaming in a dying ink stroke. All inside of me is all i have. The 'be careful' took leave upon wings last dreaming evening of reprieve | a mind wondering if wondering is real to show me is love if upon the wind of life and how is lovely sitting upon a window sill while being productive (at the sink doing dishes) if more is heavier than thought then more is the anchor of all tears /to tell do please : what imagination never demands -- that audience of understanding. just tears. :: 01.02.2022 ::