Untimed flow

The river has lowered itself before
              The range of lifeless

Trappings that are now grimacing on
              A toothless campaign

To revile what lies in the guts of
              Remembered stones and

Caricatures of a truthless visage.
              It climbs out, you

Will see at times of unchimed, un
              Rhymed decibels, it

Takes measure of an unseen vale of
              The grimace crying &

Detaching; the river is not known
              To go on like this &

It is not for you to know or I to
              Want to know; That's

Just how it aches, how the detached
              Need to flow is armed

With a distaste for the just-past,
              The yet to be known.
This entry was posted in Poetry.

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