Toxic
Blunt can be sharp
If you but see,
A toxic carp
You now set free.
A certain shade
In toxic waste,
Death ready made
Echoes last haste.
Sharp cuts most deep
In toxic bloom,
A fatal sleep
Succeeds harsh gloom.
Roads lead nowhere
With toxic brine,
Death waits down there
In grotesque lines.
Late in the night
When stars decline,
Seek other sights
That bid you dine.
Leon Enriquez
08 June 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT
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