In Grass
Shadowy backgrounds
Snakes in the grass
Reality wavers
Things come to pass
The way nothing sounds
Questions are answers
There is a level of deception
Idolatry sold on industrial scales
Invisible jails of the soul fees for males
Suspicious bureaus of inspection
In a moment of contemplative bliss
Transparent thoughts without interference
Burning streams of light mask the reptiles hiss
Rattling mandates of utter adherence
Now is not the now that was the world
Questions are the answers
Fields are sown with eyes and mouths sewn shut
Figure heads with robot scripts stay put
Life a perpetual explosion of conjecture and expression
Threads disintegrate rewind unravel
Sub atomic neutrino
On the surface of things
A darkened glass
Snakes in the grass
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Written on 2026-02-09 at 11:10
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