A wicked smirk in the wrong direction
Which Lingers precariously.
While the drummer boy’s buoyant beat
Throbs feverishly, bleeding hearts.
Outside the autumn leaves smolder to a charcoal hue
Mocking the Burns of yesterday’s splendor.
Sweet, sour then stale rots the candy dials on wrists
Teasing the helplessly hoping to a quench
While beholders glisten in eternal sunshine
Chasing their immaculate beasts
With each rising of the moon.