Inexorably from the dead
Bird's eye
Future memory: locusts gnaw
My bones as wild, black tears crawl
Down my lover's face.
Wind, rain, falling leaves;
Is this new world any
Different
From the old? Still
We cry, still we die.
Still can't fly, weighted by
Withered love.
My darling, I never
Understood her;
I promised her moonshine
Not the moon,
Toasted it a thousand
Times and still she
Calls me liar.
Do you see why?
Perhaps but her blinded eyes
Never will.
I opened mine just yesterday only
To see distinguished people play
Private parts in public places.
What good is
It for her to
See again?
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