A Glass Darkly

September 7th, 2018

A fog hangs over these days
Like this smoke. The fog of leaving
Of silence about the future.
It broods and brews. It waits and learns
It is pending, building. It comes between me
And old friends like the milkiness of the eyes of the demented.
We are already hundreds of miles apart
And with those who do not know and who I do not intend on especially telling
I try to maintain the appearances of a friendship
Which is passably friendship
But wears at the soul like days spend longingly in fog

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