My rotation suffers stagnation
when hiding exasperation.
Along my lonely arc
energies spark
elation
dark.
This hell, corruption's counter spell,
balances a core photovoltaic cell:
charging me inside,
tanning my hide
to impel
pride.
Loyal notions submit to lose emotions
to push motions of grim demotions
within their cosmic house,
a stumbling, sick mouse
their potions
douse.
Showering in fluoride, such memories died,
chemically tongue-tied. Demise's tide
crests to drive back our poor pack.
They attack...
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