Parafin / Heart

Lumpen leanings
that search walls we ignite
with each, gruesome step.

The gross hoardings
that contain this land
are barriers to my listless love.

Habermas’ scribblings;
an ode to dishevelled past
that raises paper in curls.

Carnage awaits
as it found my father
it will find us all.

Liberate this instrument
that drums and drums
to a blue moon.


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