When intuitions aren’t sharpened like an arrow

The nock isn’t calibrated to find it’s way through inclement frequencies

Eyes quiver; an ominous sign of a false stance 

Slouched posture and diminishing enthusiasm decelerates the heart

Without the beats of life being sound and bold

Chances are that the hiatus for the intuitions are prolonged 

A recess of restlessness and fidgeting with the sharp edges of life


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