Restless Nights, Restless Pen
lichen heart,
of mossy bones,
kerosene humors in burning veins;
this anxiety in the night;
like walking wounded,
needle toe,
jumping at the squeal;
ink well vertigo,
dark in the blacklight;
random is a thought,
careless is the impulse,
closet full of negligent whim,
soul on the rim of a colder pool;
shroud stains on old linen,
warmed by a dying sun;
alluvial void,
rancid with a forgotten carcass,
standfast in heavy air,
chained in the lowest gaol;
stepping flatfooted in a strangler's garden,
held parchment crumbles as old leather,
words words words,
flowing freely,
associated with nothing,
powdered creation,
mad quinine for malaise,
tonic for a weirding way;
brief midnight interlude,
for a panic stricken insomniac,
howling at the sally port,
a last kiss goodnight,
as Morpheus turns away.
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2016
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