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