#missing bricks

An outline can be seen moving,

Only an outline, never a silhouette,

A viscous world dribbles down, moving dust,

Making its way downwards,

Leaving orange oil smudges,

They help with the outline,

They define the outline,

Proving it moves,

The viscous resin world slowly reaches cracked wood in pain,

Across which, valleys, gorges, crevices run through the splitting, aching wood,

Outlines are only possible,

The dirty dust hides silhouettes,

Grime shadows truth,

But the glass sees all, sees through the obstructions,

What I see, is what the glass can’t control,

An outline,