ambedo

finger painting
chaos as i trace
the erratic drops
running down the
filthy glass only
to see it vanish
into the puddle
forming beneath

i sometimes wonder
does god live in
the spaces between
answering prayers
that get lost in
atomic dissonance

my fingers stained
from tracing out
the hidden meanings
as my hue shifts
from a purple bruise
on the cheek of hope
to the oil slick
sitting sickly upon
the surface of an
ocean of daydreams

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