wicked past

and dusty winds

blurry lines

scratched into shifty sands;

release me..

A world you've never known blown to dust;

taken again from you now absent of love

full of puerile entitlement

here, you

come here you i might sing,

"Oh, inexorable return. Your fine grit polishes my sub conscience, to a high shine."

well,

does it?

well,

this mirror burst,

like a thousand stars;

falling

while it took only one to save me;

one eye in the tri angle reflection.

one eye from three