Conspiracy – a reblog from Thotpurge

Published June 17, 2018 by Nan Mykel

Wish I’d written that…

THOUGHT PURGE

I’m hearing confessions this morning, from the wind, from
the shifty eyed moon. The wind is ugly when it breaks, falling

like inside-out balloons that have run out of breath, the moon
is liquid in denial, quicksilver tears searing the endless night.

It is their conspiracy, isn’t it? Their fault? What changed the
way things were supposed to be? What alters the coefficient

of morning blue? What crimps the arch of the horizon? What
makes the bees hum in a strange language? I could question

the universe, but we’ve been here before. You can predict the
answer if you can connect all the dots. If you can find all the

points. If you know where to look. If you know where not to
look. We impale our human pain on cardboard skies. We rub

our yesterdays with numb fingers till they never were, collect
rain in the cupped palms of…

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