Poetry

The padded words 
perdured the fall of factuality 
into the gaping maw of untruth. 
 
The barriers start 
crumbling for stilts 
but the alley leads to a jungle of tales. 
 
The manipulation walks 
on the frozen lake of eyes. 
Blue shadows move underneath to- 
 
find the door. You spend 
whole life to locate the dock. 
The old sea and man drift in dark. 
 
Only a seagull flies 
in morning fog to trace 
the sun, halted in clouds.