held in hands
and on noble knees
toiling at
twilight of a curious mystery
a landscape
with the flood of jail-joy surging
his guiding
eyes of pure fear
enterprise
sidewalks of slumber-land
a tarnished
god and phantom clouds brooding
part-time
loser of the galaxy
with truths
that walk in sleepy shadows
sheds boomerang
smiles on torn windows
weight of
light that he mourns
fails all
wanton words and pride's soft memory
wounds of
the mirror at each dawn voice the bile swallowed by many
weight of night
that draws and drapes over slovenly bones an eternal sorry
fumes of
evening's charring of frowns
flairs and
sparkles of sordid thoughts in a flurry
as man
stands un-punctuated
by the angst
that solves his crimes
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