Poetica Spontenaium 5.22.03

In a secret identity
crawling into a skein
of flesh and bones, cotton
nothing more

Walking limpless steps
Without neonic outerspace scars
Shoving a shoulder against
An ordinary door

No ultranemisis
No stoic challenges
No time traveling convoluted plotlines
Or epic xenophobic or psycho sanctual war

A simple day
An ordinary breath
A reminder of
My inner core

Posted by Min Jung in Poetica Spontenaium

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