Saturday, September 29, 2012

№ 93. Empty Universes

I have wondered why, at most times, awkwardness
steal into conversations. Why little laughs dissolve
silences, but only momentarily. Things fall back into
an ordered, inane set-up.

It's a null set. After the green light, yellow.
Then red. A messy, predictable chaos. Even a fly
tires of its daily morsels. To the sooty, almost bitter taste
of grime, there's a sterile, neutral air.

Experiences can have polarities.
Dismal; sunny. Stale; novel.
The idea of variety must seem strange.
But it's the same can we fill with little details.

Empty universes filled with
orbiting infidels and stirred assassins.


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