Phobophobia

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June 16, 2012 by mpe77

Fool the colors in Hell
Climb and scare you of fear.
Where are you, that you cling to
And remain here still?
Still, not moving in a realm of
Still, long past.
My “I want you’ is just within my grasp,
And the fog of not knowing is fading,
And the shift in vision is occurring
More often than not, or ever did before.
There, “I spit you.”
And you won’t happen.
Just as you do, splendidly.
I guess it may happen, if I am solid.
Which I only sometimes believe.
Preferring air to liquid,
That I might float and forget it,
But It, is everything.
And somewhere far beneath are we–
Striving to understand
That which we know we
Cannot.
We stretch our necks and live,
Because no one ever asks why, really
Not loudly enough.
Maybe because no one really wants to know that
They don’t know
How deeply rooted the soul grows
Somehow impervious in liquid clinging bones.

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