Tuesday, October 06, 2009

stuck in the crevices of connotation

how does one,pray tell,confess
the inner confines of the soul?

the forms are hardly ever defined
and expression is all but sufficient

oh that you could understand, feel
the unbearable inferno at this core

that articulation could linger
in the nooks afforded by innovation

that expression could be inspired
beyond the guise of convention

that love and fear, joy and doubt be fulfilled
in the crevices of connotation

all that would remain would be a solitary fading ember
if the fires of this hell were cooled by a long-yearned for utterance

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