The certain crumbling towers
of a whisper
Sweeping across tonight's skyline
Circled with bored clouds
almost sweating with rain
and a primordial
sound and what not
of all your godliness
trespasses
on feet
blades of grass
and your notebook
Your hands tightly sewn with clusters
of brilliance,
Relinquish their hold
to see the moths
all flitting
in frenzy
and daylight
sabbath
of timeless carousels whirling in a prosperous time.
And i miss you
I have
I will
and only some void of dreary
coagulation
knows
How black it has been without my eyes seeing
the pores of skin
and the corners of your eyelids.
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