ImaginationA Poem by JRThe desert is a harsh b***h with long swept hips and a cool glare I climbed up her thigh naked and I saw nothing, nothing to delineate the sand from the sky nothing moved, no birds could last only the wind worked its way by and puckered my skin as it passed, nothing but wind, and sand, and sky; And she whispered to me up on her thigh, this is what it’s like when you die and I replied, no, this is creation when you remove all stimulus from the brain, a little DMT remains and this is what we call “imagination.” © 2020 JRFeatured Review
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2 Reviews Added on May 14, 2020 Last Updated on May 14, 2020 AuthorJRPlacerville, CAAboutWriting again Interesting times to be living in, kind of a cool time to be a writer and documenting the world. more..Writing
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