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There is a whirling of color-
impressions and pulses of raw being-
      -    intangible   -
shards that wiggle and pulse

through a cortex of subconscious 
  just invisible to my knowing.

I am raw.

A sieve for the experiences I can not name.

A building of thunderclaps and swells.

Give me release.

Give me not this irrational deflection
twirling definitves with misinterpretations.

Give me acute sorrow, that I can name.
Give me the source of anger so I can rage-
      let the fire burn to embers
and mourn the smoke that clouded my foresight. 

Give me wisdom before I repeat all my errors.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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