The Forest Behind the Eyes

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C.O.N.C.E.N.T.R.A.T.E.,

hold the thought tight until

it bursts, sprinkles into

a confetti storm.

-

(The

best) way to

drop

off

the face of the earth

is to be a transcendental

wizard. A figment

of your own

imagination.

-

Slip

underneath

the sunken tree.

-

Hearts and logs,

twigs and fog, distracting

further self-searching,

moral strewn, ethics denied,

time, and

again,

-

F.O.C.U.S.,

let your eyes squint once,

and turn away.

-

Feel the color red

wash over.

Reaffirm that newspapers,

pedastals,

carousels,

still exist.

-

Climb above the

watchers sightline.

Try to find a

nugget of truth,

gold buried

in this gray.

-

S.T.A.R.E.,

truly spy into

the creamwhite void.

-

Autopsy the moment.

Dissect the highway

that leads, muffler

belching, into this

sicksad world.

-

Destroy the preconceived

notion that all cats land

on their feet, but catch

her before she falls.

-

Drift, float, skirt the

question, hike it higher,

mid-thigh, terrify your

mind, once in a while.

-

G.A.Z.E.,

lazily.

-

Try to evaluate

the inner energy

that haunts, hovers

and collects below

the surface.

-

A transcendental

wizard tries to

swallow every second.

Blinks religiously. And

severs every tie that

binds him to eternity.

-

Make the most

of absence.

Keep the mind

forever free.

-

C.O.N.C.E.N.T.R.A.T.E.,

hold the thought until

it bursts,

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