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 Jul 2018
Butch Decatoria
Diminutive minutes fly by and imbue.

Ennobled, hungers the second hand.

Verbose and loud, its villainous ticking;

Oxen heavy, that kneading sound,

Under skull and depth of dreams.

Rescind the mad lives we vitiate;

Enchanted by hollow, fear of ghosts,

Dancing in a pitch waiting room.


Happenstance for insomniacs,

Ogres and dark shadows howling

Unapologetic at the light and moon.

Riot of the quiet, against daylight

Star: quarry in the void of night / time / dark.
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