Still Life Still Death
still the same
still holding séances in batholes
still thrumming
and still drumming on my tinderbox
still letting the copycat days
kill themselves over and over
the angels are on strike
all over the Mandrake Mountain
still the dawn
is covered with cobwebs
of cold marine graveyards
still the dusk
is X-Rayed through our bones
still I exist
even though it feels I don’t
painted on the mouldy wall
just a part of a still life scenery
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