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Chilly-Boos

Tags: dark

Dark has seized my insomnia
of withering night shades,
confessing of past doggerels
with chilly-boos and my pen.

While sipping a wee bit of cider
in deep purple among the hemlock,
as the glockenspiel seizes,
and the keys go belly up.

And as my words of gloom flounder
with a voucher of old men rising,
furloughed from the house of chagrin,
with cataracts on my pen.
 
In conversation with shadows,
and dark quivers from my cold heart,
of my poetic mind's womb,
and Aspergum for pain.

 

 

 

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