Slightly indecently
the moon was sleeping...

Under anesthesia
the elixir drips from the language...

Fraternising
the needles...

This moment was not
mine. Not this moment had...

Days are crisp,
nights chilled...

After breach in tolerance
one peeled truth becomes incendiary...

Renunciating
the flesh, now you ask for...

Standing under a
bottlebrush I write a...

On marbled lids we
stretch our arms to collect...

Timeless,
the eyes and fractured wisdom...

Fixing the dignity
like a fabulous sarcophagus...

It dims the hope.
Eying peaks of flame...