Nomad
Like a nomad trespassing woodland's edge,
I rip moonbeams apart ; drain the pulp
of my marrow , shapeless—
wandering along tracks of old interludes
in mid Autumn's light.
And as the elixir of a world dilutes flawed refrains
through a self-alienation endured; a pounding
gust turns midnight into a wayward trance.
I was so close to the rhythm of myself,
this navel unbuttoned and numb
by aimless wanderings still, still...I took
absence of me; again.
11/13/2015
The Journey Begins
Matt Calliri's Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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