The Nuances in Time

I am intelligently intoxicated.

This hollow city has over-crowded.
I stay blind, but my eyes open.
I speak and I wound my throat.

Time and time again
I fill these voids
with an echo for a chance
to prove myself.

Time ages me; and
like a dandelion’s petals
the scales slowly fall off
my eyes.

I exhaust my words,
and my mind filters for more.
I try to stand,
but my lungs try to halt.

Time flutters erratically
and I dwindle on its delicate thread;
seeking for a pilgrimage
that I can call home.

I am deaf
but in these nuances,
I am heard.


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