A.J. Huffman

Any Shade of Redundance
 
Viscious colors fall – Silent!
My eyes burn mute with their echo.
Imagination’s wasteland weighs
my wrists. I cannot feel . . .
  The restraint
is an abomination of senses. Sounding
in ghostly corners of dawn, everything stretches
in and through . . .
  something else ovulates
inside a mind. A diamond or a demon?
I laugh
at the irrelevancies implied in the inquisition.
(As if it matters.)
Sparkle and burn both scar the same.

A.J. Huffman © 2012