Our insensibility—
it’s tweaking my tranquility
and reaping my ability
to act with no humility.
Now, watch this creeping
seeping agility maim the
creativity in the livid living lives
that thrive in questions that
I have yet to ask.
This task,
at the bottom of my worn and weathered flask--
which provides my well and wishful mask--
may answer me at last.
Clarity--
I'm reaching and
leaching off the preaching’s of the world
and its boisterous beseeching brethren.
I need to feed the seed of quiet in this riot.
I need to find the light, which holds tight
within my plight—like sight.
At the bottom of my worn and weathered flask
right here, within my fight
lies this mask that hides a task,
which is finally mine—
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