October Snow

Chief Wan-Tun had sores that sung chants so irritably lucid that there'd be no going back once the twisted word shattered with the swift swing of the heart's hammer. Dripping with the grasp of metal screws, words set free into the hardly breathable airs shared, a confession of solemn honesty echoes beyond the hum of time. Set me free with your eyes, let me cry like a detuned viola forgotten in more dire memories. Snow covered sheeting came with the morning breeze as the trains began to pull out for an untimely shift in spatial consciousness. Allow the whims to subdue the ignorance we feed with nutrients of energies unseen. Collaborate with one's self to shed the comfort of the mind's disillusioned frame, for boundaries are no more than forgotten ink with no place to take shape and translate the unimagined harmonies.