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To A Lover, Overcome

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To a lover, overcome with panic and lust,

think back to that summer and that first song.

 

Sinew inside the mind, a singing black slug, snug,

leaving lines in the cortex, a tune of dementia.

 

The ticks, tremors and sounds of envious children.

A wilting, sad cluster of flowers, dropped.

 

Crescent half-thoughts into action as the song ends

and steer vitriol through the violent seas of desire.

 

Shushed to the corner where the bagpipes howl

a hundred notes of solitude, hunger and fear.

 

Those whispered lies told when the day gave us up.

Because that day ended without the slow sludge of thought.

◄ Supercilium

Everything Is Documented ►

Comments

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John Togher

Wed 31st Jul 2013 12:22

This is an old one, from 2007. I was going through a folder and came across it. Something going on. Can't remember the inspiration for it.

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