Friday, February 4, 2022

Gone

 Wax and wane

Tidal pull, guaranteed.

Stretched between events and breathing, that map of life - queried.

Like popcorn strung from clean cotton thread

Expiration of decoration will come.

Incense and cigarettes pervaded the rooms

To the then of the naive, young being in me.

These nights wading in fog, reluctant to orchestrate

Superficial nothingness, as fatigue gets the better of night.


4 distinct patterns this night, the hum from the glow of the light

Eyes darting to and fro, into the programmed accessories

The glare of irritation persists. Whittling down the tapping of eyes

To opt for eyes to skim over words, back-lit from soft pages

Published for 'Old School' delight.

February kicks in and the Retrograde recedes,

Another Friday to tuck away and forget

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