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Sunday, June 11, 2006

Eyes and I's

The rush, the ultimate high is Living. Pure and Raw.

Illusions shape our paths
These wispy tendrils
Knock at the windows
Of each of our thoughts
Curling their gnarled fingers
Around our hapless selves
Forming unseen prisons
Their bars framing our every move

They surround us
Assuming the unsaid and the unseen
Corroding the innocent rawness
Hacking the unblemished wilderness
Present like trapped genies within ourselves

These myopic lenses
Thick with the sediment of traditions
Encage us in the glasshouses of the past
Accusingly peering with wide open eyes
At our parallel lives,
Imaginary concoctions
Imagined moments

Creating invisible borders
Of barbed wire
Twisting our days
Into deformed hours and seconds
Carving out chunks of our selves
Paring away the thin peels of freedom
Draining, waning, tearing
Till we merely exist
Left with just glittering jagged pieces
Of a beautiful reality
That form the I
The shape of Life

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