The Poison Path


She speaks in whispers, to mask the tongue of her disguise, the sound of something from afar, but ever so near, the depth of what is becoming known, in an instant moment of clarity the thoughts are revealed, the naked skin scaling, coursing and enveloping the presence of birth wrapped in a little death, the vine is creeping, behind broken language, to teach in symbol and form, the way back, is to acknowledge a way forward, to hang up the phone, when does not ring, to gather the patience, the will to accept the moment, as it is, to see so much, so much again through the very same eyes.

-Josh Fleming

Image by: Skander Khlif


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