A quick, insubstantial one while the sleep is away.
Subterranean stale winds
As the train rushes in
With half-opened window
whistling conduit like this
Forgive me my pig-in-trough digressions
Accounting for little, compensating for a lot
Living with untruths
Indulging in joyless chemical pleasures
A Brave New Monday
A philosopher once told me there was something beyond sex
(Not sure if prudish or asexual)
Then the bonds burst.
Then the insurrectionists,
Then shadow shivers, stutters
Dancing by a bonfire singing Les Mis in the streets
Recorded on smartphone.
Lost to the moment
If you would keep my hand without any illusions.