December 10, 2009

[ lost analogs ]

He can't see her love clearly through this haze of self-loathing.
His brain starts to feel like it's decomposing
as it decrypts her lips digitized and overanalyzed.
Surreal sounds of misconstrued analogies
puzzle minds all too traumatized
to see through eyes disguised as hidden analogs.

Fog rises from the bogs as souls dissipate as mere apparitions,
cast aside by the wind like superstitions
and nonsensical lighter than air apparatuses.

What can tear apart the strongest oak?