.

blackened superstitions, i know are false all false again false, i proclaim: false.
these things you speak of are not the truth. again, i proclaim: false.
around others, the imagination runs wild and away
but here, i wish i stayed
slain
pain

the beauty of the naked, the beauty of the unseen truths that surround me
a photograph day, well-lit, but not too well because of my camera's imperfections
haunted by the past, unable to persevere, severe panic, oh: i panic.
panic
at a
picnic

i even panicked at the picnic where we sat, hand in hand
unable to release my thoughts or perhaps to transcribe them into words
interpretable to you or to me
with the sandwiches set out nicely
i forgot
to eat