Door ENTRANCE. And she’s stationary waiting for the invitation to extend And she walked with scarlet cloth, through the hallway of records SILENCE. Jung archetypes
Door EXIT. And she’s in the next room staring through a stained glass window And the paint is peeling from the frame between here and
It was a Wednesday. ‘He’ didn’t feel like getting up. ‘He’ was cold to the touch. It was a Thursday. ‘He’ felt like getting up.
Dapper. Crisp. Resembles no one. Arms race. Chest caves. Instant coffee sits idle. Jazz darkness. Lost in the hallway. Righteous. Wrong. Thinks like everyone. Background
Motionless – less than thankful. Contrary to brimstone Sermons. Plato; Cayce dimensional blueprints. Disappear into the light of the stray moon. This is official Project
Righted my wrong by committing more wrongs. Mended those thoughts. Found a light. And a friend. The perfect match. This is official Project Astral poetry