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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