The Fuzzy

The fuzzy can be fun
It can cultivate a new interpretation of the artwork that is my surroundings
I often sit and look, lensless, at colours lost in a sea of green or grey
Simply in awe of the difference

The fuzzy can go unnoticed
My waking hours spent attached to a tool which twists my very nature
I become comfortable with the details, so much so that I take them for granted
Simply seeing without noticing

The fuzzy is often frustrating
The glass designed to refashion it failing and me, fearing
I frantically contort a discounted set of eyes into a thin line to focus, but instead droplets form and fall
Simply fueling the fuzzy

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