Inside the mind comes sanity if only for now words come in bitefuls less flattering— yes, for now they miss but I strive toward(s) knowing they serve me well so, I forge forward steady as steel hot as fire readied as feline stealth in instinct, pouncing on latent stories congealed in wax bygones of black ink fragments of bitten bytes and fontless allegories blurry, unseen dormant? yes— but still, distilled indeed blessed.
Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Claudia Ramírez on Unsplash
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