Heedless Hours

abandon now
all conscious thought

dispel this land
its woeful squalor

bask in the bourasque

in throes of twain

are these heedless hours

doth thy loom bequeath

for not this
the skies allude naught

wrought with writhing
without end

lairs of loss
layered esoteric

fall as life
in sun’s disclaim

restive lips
unveil thy visage

save me
from this coiled ruse



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