gray matter

Demise
to the gory, sarcasm-laced, fanciful wonderings.

I am exposed, in a hazy, gray sort of way.
motives.
insecurities.
In my wishful thinking I pray for the chaff to be burned away. For death to take her own.

to that which destroys and warps--

the sticky webs and graphic lines etched about that lump in my throat.

Shto e toa?

Love?
Longing?

Fear.

Ah, taka e.




Here is what I surmise:

color
emotion
perception...

Backdrop:grace.

Regretfully,
Logic isn't going to be all that helpful.

Is that going to be problem? Or should I keep on with the banter, here?

Despite slight indisposition...I admit banter is not in question.

At least;

I feel.



Sborovash ti?