Circle like a hawk possessed
-of some imaginary thing.
Some glimpse of shine-value
Of money-tender caress
And magpie-madness you go
Down, down, deep down-fall
Not to catch yourself - for you are too
-Far - gone low
Nothing is there, there never was
But the flurry-chaos of autumn sprung crunch
Of dissociation and dissipated-
Dreams.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC