senseless_sense Joana. Seeing it now as hands clasp To soggy tatters of some old newspaper The melting words of some familiar stranger That I had so longed wished to be my own The dried acrylic colour crimson Has now become plastic bloodness Lies upon my autumnal place As water drops inevitably from the ceiling Trying to accept the choice I have made Clenching fists at my haunting thoughts Fighting despair as the meaning flees And sense can be seen trotting from a distance Parading like a madman Arms waving up in the air Stick tongue out Mock the sanity My own choice From a million other paths I have chosen the torment One that does not relieve One that could never appease Though impetus is far from its ground I had fooled myself Thinking it would escort me to you But instead I sit here on my own Wondering if the paint of my blood Will mix with your now melting words If somehow they could catch my sense And lock it away Holding on to the sanity it insistently mocks Does it need me to act like this? Is it me who controls? Is it me who submits? The drops of water have metamorphosed And showers of languid essence Degrade the words And the plastic crimson liquidities Blending together they form blood And as the showers abate I kneel and press my hand against the new matter And rest my face to it Like the life that has ceased passing through my veins. 001002 what's it to you? who go blather from