origin story

Abstraction extrapolated from metaphor,
my fingers digging, desperately, for the origin of some thought,
any- to touch
Caressing expressions, poems, they find hope and they rest for a moment
Physicality replaced by inflections and rhymes
my words stumbling out, running, reaching everywhere-
falling hard on busy streets, their echoes competing with the sound of beer and Wednesday evening,
their subtext dissolving in the polluted air and sweet shisha smoke, and so
what now?
If I cannot name it, will I ever find it?


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