words of rationale,
describing but confusing,
leading away from the plot,
never remaining in reality.
A shot in the darkness,
an unorganised note,
a word out of place,
a paragraph of life.
Eeriness unfolding,
a chime in the wind,
a plaintive cry,
the light reveals nothing.
Editing a sequence,
the mistakes are fading,
the brilliance blinds,
comprehension is gained.
Love of others,
a comma or a space,
a statement,
an exclamation,
all end in a full stop.
Death is destiny,
love is a paradox,
a channel to the side,
escapism from the cruelty.
Peter Holland. 14/11/1988.
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