in a room…

did you see how it felt when they stumbled into the presence of your home

or the premise of your hospitality:

the expectation of your welcome;

-the love of your heart-

How did this whole endearment start and where was it  thinking of finding its art…

filled with a room full of artists;

the kind you would expect,

in this free living situation;

this free gift of the nation;

societies breaking point;

the fight against the norm;

the hate for its form…

but where do you fit in,

to this equation,

where do you fall in to consideration;

where did they ever ask for your information??

some form of infiltration…

your feelings;


fuck, when did we switch to silence;

or is it more a sense of ignorance,

disguised to avoid the consequences,

as a coward hides his incompetencies?

how sad, how unknowing?

yet another flower, bloom without his glowing,,,

nothing to show…


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