the meeting point between antifreeze and rot
undiscovered worlds in a stupid sheet of ice
i rake my leaves and ***** a flurry
from that strange backed-up faucet, my mouth.

all fire is eventually put out.

the cacophony eventually hushes down to a whisper

and then all that is left is the remnants

embers

and then there is nothing but the dark.

the still silence fills the void and entangles one into

the demon that is alone.

As one night I traversed between
Familiar ponds and waterholes.
The mirth and pep of cobblestone catacombs
Traversing also
And lingering languid with the interminable vapours of combustion.
I approached a woman,
Plain,
But radiating a genre of beauty obsolete.
Our trajectories to cross,
I half-stepped, swung, and made to speak,
‘Madame, if you may fancy but a drink?’
To which she did not so much as glance,
But brushed me off
And kept steady on her path.

he flew too high
and the sun cast him down
but if he had flown any lower
the sea would have swallowed him up