hushed shuffles

Things move behind me in hushed shuffles of productivity.

Me equals silent and still, unbending, steely weal.

A pinch of sadness found in frustration.

The loneliness of a crowd.

The wrought iron twists.

Two.

Eighteen dancing slips slide behind a single veil.

Nothing from nothing yielding some~things,

yet, remain unspeaking.

Starshine seen that died already.

And, I feel your shame.

Pride comingling with this being.

I miss my Funk and Wagners more than necessary.

Divination by dictionary.

Play things never put away.

Immaturity extracts blood from the stone.

Holed up in worry so much so a hole in the head could incorrectly~seem to be more becoming.

Faded and dusty.

I miss the mark.

Even my writing hardly starts.

Cold heat unseemly, waiting for skin to begin slowly peeling.

Too dark to share; too scared to hear.

Intimidation of trying shines in thine eyes.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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