My brain is not
here
Dumbstruck
bankrupt of want
The malaise of
Monday morn stretches from the previous week torn
As if septets of
rotations truncate emotional stagnation
Into the breach
once more dear troubadour
I say not love;
this is not love
The elixir has
been spat upon the garments
The reach of
forgiveness has conceded to acceptance
These travelers
conjoined for an intermediate expanse
The impetus of
each divergent so will be the future
No walls needed to
see the impasse
The blockade
harbors colonies crafting separate constitutions
The pain ousts the
pleasure of January weddings
The irises sit on
the table requited with the stagnant silence
The blanket is
barren of vibration
The videos rotate
the tide un-viewed
No comments:
Post a Comment