The boy is planked on either side
by sky
Neither clouds nor grounds to
give specifics
No circumstances that bleed into
actions
Only the boy in the sky with his
airy sonnets.
As Twilight caresses the evening
streets
With her stern darkness to steer interests
and vices
One’s broken boots evade the
puddles of shadows
Treading smoothly on the ground
with no sky.
No circumstances, no actions
Smooth broken boots on the
pavement.
Sinking and soaking his eyes into
the beguiling
emptiness brought him here to be
pinned
underneath
reality’s vision of reality:
the dreams of our wistfulness
wistful nothing is all he sees
the boy is planked by the sky.
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