MORNING could not rest upon the declining moments of time.
Destiny inhibited by the silence of doubt, that invoke incorrigible feelings, precise glimpses of writhe.
I woke up in a state of overdrive,
a perception of a journey mystified and sprawled into a lapse of rigid dismay. Turning points of chance,
sound judgement captured in a careless engagement of truth.
Flowers sing colors of an unequivocable admission,
an intense rehearsal FOR love…
or, maybe I’m still dreaming— of you