Sunday, April 23, 2017


Not a story, or a poem, just words.
Our eyes roll out of their place and into the dark river. Synthetic stones take their place. Our eyes, now his property, sink to the bottom, bouncing off each other, and separating from their twin. Isolated and unaware, they settle to the bottom. The river remains unchanged, reflecting the light above it, accepting his residents with open arms. Our minds, still chained to our eyes, continue to wander, seeing what we've always seen. Nothing.

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