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a disturbed kind of “Dead”

I hear the tinnitus open up a half-world
of little elves
and fairies,
soaring about
around my ears,
and I see
- in the migraine corner
of my eye -
the twinkling
of little brittle wings
as the words
of the common world
their appearances
in my morse-like interpretations,
flaking out of rhyme and reason,
leaving but a random sequence
of phonemes,
like the glimmer
of springtime birch leaves
through sunlit foliages,
or the hypnotic rippling
of shallow water
around the boulders of a tiny stream
high up in an old northen forest;
my perception liberating me
of my bodily shackles,
allowing my suspension
in an out-of-time,
shaman ascension,
mirrored all around
by the long-lost looks
on the disintegrated faces
of friends and foes
of the past

Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 15 gånger
Publicerad 2022-11-18 13:10

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Ingvar Loco Nordin
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