words

When now ends, isn't it always?

Cut from a different ribbon,

taut like an envious membrane,

pierced only by timeless silence,

I know not but yielding.

Tremors demand precision.

This whole reprisal ain't but

one big steaming heap of feel-good mumbo-jumbo.

Shrill nocturnal devils recommence gnawing,

damned if you do. Don't.

But red sounds haunt me here, and

wasn't it you who crapped in the manger?

I can't bear the blank riddle,

nor bury the black puddle,

so it'll be the deluge 'till the curse comes curdling home.

Atonal orange lambs keep blowing up my battery.

I'm worse, though.

Atolls won't withstand typhoons.