Kleer

A new balance walking on grass made of moss and slate absorbing the secrets and lies held tight by the ghosts of my fanciful mind. The mind ready to pull the trigger of inspiration and impulsive need to figure it all out before the serpent opens Pandora’s ring and slips it onto her own finger and slices my throat for his sheer amusement.

A court house set up with posture that the judge mocks in expert knowing yet brilliant minds play dumb to appease the children dangling carrots over a vat of witches brew. Cheer and jeers to the one so elegant to cozy up to the bar and spin with the records playing on the heartstrings of a harem of delicate ladies.

A fog so convincing that an open heart can only rage to set herself free and men to defend a loyal donkey painted red forced obliged to porcelain skin rubbing lipstick on the dog’s collars. Blocking the moon with their silence; no feeling on the edge of distinction.

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