WINE AND GATES

torn assunder, the hand closed the book

the teeth that thought this hum drum
switch of corridors that knew..
the role of sugar and the hunger we assume is come
is a lurking sense to have the blessing of a shoe

clues and the dirty lips of love
we sense the reach of each his or her pennys of disgust
are you blessing the better turn of a head? which even does:
is this your hand in the stilled moment we thought must?

no nose, eyes on the verge of rigors
the rudimentary tongue of suggestion and its morose companion
the face of life seems to be ours, for a price that were
spite and pistolry is now our aim, the age of surreality and its lion

hold cold, close to lose
the rippped cheek of it all
the tongue of apprehension we found, is a history on the verge of...
not good news, for the wish, the whistle, the wall

food for thought, "where have our kisses gone?"
the riches of a noisome beast has reminded us to encourage the reasons for hatred
and yet we will survive the sun...
and find the craven throat of a vice evily said

why?
the ropes of a sincere day have paid the price
the rest of the story, this way to snide
is the heart of cmmon enough guises of the wise


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torn assunder, the hand closed the book

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