Light weaves in and out of vision,Interfering, then darting away.
Time wastes itself in the cover of night,
And drowns in a bottle of sand.
Consternation is my nation, my ethnicity
Leaving no mark or color on my skin.
But my mind knows my address,
And my heart sees its landscape.
As miles of time pass, I wonder how,
But fail to choose, to stop.
Enfolded in the lulling warmth,
Fashioned by my own hands,
All from dangerously affordable comfort.
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