Wasting Time, While Time Shall Die, Staring Into My Lover’s Eyes

Lost,

or not,

(the very thought!)

a focualdian anchor for the swirl

of a world the paint brush of your idle caressing hand

makes clear in colorful expanse

let the machine malfunction

have the smoke float through the glass

when the world ends

let them come to my door

and announce it so I’ll know

in their uniforms, monsters of self-importance

I will give you grim reapers of mortality

the best halloween candy this town has ever seen

full bars

grasp them and rattle

full fucking bars

i will love you most of all

when i am gone

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