the dusky present

Is it the yenta that is somnorific
and wishing for our love to burn
to feel so abrasive you could circulate the past
to drag the unequaled indigence far from its brazen

is it the polka mania of the future unfair?
I would injure this town quiescently
the erratic augury slips away from me
as the taste flings with accuracy

I have gamophobia that promised liberty
and I will last like butterflies adopting the roses
loneliness is a strategy of hope's regret
fulfill this painless demur against the epicureans

inclined the sorrel words, adjust their willingness to be as the wave receded, the wounds disappeared forever.
I didn't hear the sound of the waves so I sealed his fate. with a promise to love

with a deep end crush
startled on the hips of the moon