shadows smoke
the soul,
and spill into skull’s
yawning holes,
filling up the globe
until tension’s
tightened on
its spool
colours of the
soul,
spilling out of
steamy
holes,
into a vaster,
brighter
pool,
++++
come swim your mind
clear of its rule.
Swimmy Cloudman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/grumpygorman/?hl=en
…a no rule pool.
