soler

soler

{Otto Totland::01.28.14}

 

there would be voices swimming in my head

like I thought I was a preacher

brightening the night’s sheen and angle

as I gripped fabric

like it was some kind of shield

but evil always cut its own

perfect meridian

I would, I thought, douse the world

in droplets of wisdom fire

little incendiary philosophies

meant to liberate

love’s circle of illumination

was always bound to be spun

manipulated to look as though

as though…

…the ramblings of misguided souls

or the sobbing truths of grief

obliterated in mistrust

but words more honest were rarely spoken

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