The blank white page
conjures fear and terror
and the words comfort.
We have questions
with answers buried
contained in the black.
It engulfs and enfolds and encloses.
unharmed and transformed and hated.
that have been built with sweat and devolution
will result in death.
With the moon on my tongue, I
taste bitterness and rejection.
I question the nature of what floats below.
I question the existence of what floats below.
I question the beauty of what floats below...