Midnight distresses in triplicate.
Night devoid of sleep, reassuringly dull dreams with a hit of morning amnesia
The passing of moon, a sickle of silver plume and skies almost as dark if not nearly as poetry on chaos pages; bookmarked for eternity, hidden under a stain that eclipses my heart with ritual heartbeat on that veined curve where yearning rages.
Curled into a ring of repetitive timings masked as new day that stretches into a malleable line, an exhausted tinge of shattered clay.
Thusly dented and scarred musts go by the hours.
minutes and seconds used to a pulp and moments ground to fine powder.
Insured would be dreams sutured to sleepscape inseams and ceilings affixed with sleepless stars
No comments:
Post a Comment