Walkin on Air
Gluttony's Endstation
Have you ever loved the butchers:
delicatessen type who makes gourmet
dishes and succulent tidbits,
pates, sausages and what's its
that go well with French red-wine bouquet,
fine threads and for the feet blushers?
Imagine sunshine sheen photons
as rude ‘burst-forth' revelatory truth
echo rebounding off mute stone:
RIP, rest in pieces all alone;
dreams of eternal life vanished with youth
absorbed by a gorger's tampon.
Startling passage grave ruins thrive
among the cowslip bordered alleyways
crisscrossing the ancient bone-yards,
where lie entombed many blackguards,
whose excess like Vesuvian Pompeii
left of themselves nothing alive.
delicatessen type who makes gourmet
dishes and succulent tidbits,
pates, sausages and what's its
that go well with French red-wine bouquet,
fine threads and for the feet blushers?
Imagine sunshine sheen photons
as rude ‘burst-forth' revelatory truth
echo rebounding off mute stone:
RIP, rest in pieces all alone;
dreams of eternal life vanished with youth
absorbed by a gorger's tampon.
Startling passage grave ruins thrive
among the cowslip bordered alleyways
crisscrossing the ancient bone-yards,
where lie entombed many blackguards,
whose excess like Vesuvian Pompeii
left of themselves nothing alive.
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Gluttony`s Endstation
Gluttony`s Endstation