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Travis Head


Readings of universe carry immeasurable weight;
Atmospheric changes regulate, at times overload, a mental state.
As I scale the backs of clouds, sense detaches itself from logic.
I wake up grasping, stretching for a ledge within my head;
Mortal cotten depresses a softness of extreme
That creates a nausea inside of me--
The reminder of a concept called Mass,
And its dreadful mixture with Gravity.

Clarity enters only through the door of retrospect....
And scars continue to cut regardless of regret.
The Father Sky stretches his mighty arms outside the view of finitude;
Our omnivorous appetite shortsighted of a nocturnal prelude.
Man is a nomad of the stars,
Hitchhiking in limbo afar
To formulate the pattern of his earthly nebula ajar.

An army of ants couldn’t persuade a grandiose door of play....
But a human truth on his floor revealed as day.
He takes another helping of Pathos,
Screams from the mountain top,
Walks away.