Tuesday, September 7, 2021



A filament of the times, a weird fish 

only in pieces when im fooled by fools

falling out of grip knowing every one of them leaves

and it turns us

and we stumble over rocks we have to tumble back over,

 to places we never really left

Im in between time and it might be a fact of true being all i needed

caught in some white light , nostalgic to the pace of slowly poured coffee

at a shop with faces eager to be shined upon 

mood of zero, a common ground to agree on 

"are you empty? " someone whispers over a mask and a latte

you think about it, for a second.

You snap back to reality when the woman behind the register with the soft voice exclaimed,

"Sir, Are you, empty?, do you need a, refill?"

Thom hits a falsetto in the back, ground. The well lit life scene.

You are experiencing the feelin of a double meaning in your cup 

falling out of grip, so i take a sip 

and Im transported back, to more than a feeling. 

More of the look of the walls, the the chairs, the table, and ceiling 

We are fixtures. 

We are fixed and placed in placed for broken souls to be made whole 

We are purposed to pain, purposed through pains

so that the power still intact will fill the empty vessel

Von Paul


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