Thursday, June 4, 2015

Untitled

I am Lucifer,
cast out and damned
to my beautiful pursuits
In what seems like
absolute freedom

I felt a finger pointed at me,
some kind of invisible conviction
that led me to mundanity

I am Camus' reverie,
rolling a boulder up
and letting it
descend again

After all these years,
blisters
form
like little volcanoes



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