Tuesday, November 8, 2016


Rest eludes
Climbing into these choices.
Brink of disaster
Exaggeration, replete.
Swiping the time
Into my casket,
These are the decisions
That wax
That wane.
That torture the gibbous
In all her beauty.
That nite-lite for all
To woo us to slumber
Entranced to the Gods of night
To pillow communion.
Emptied beds coo
For Lovers to come
To sweat, sweetly
Into the aura of two
Two to one
Tightly, exclusively
In nighttime grandeur.

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