din

Transient being. My moon in a sunbeam. I dream about you. In my memories. Absent sleep. Killing me deep. Valium. No longer keeps me neat. I wake up each morning, raging, realizing you’re sent from, you’ve been sent for, Lord, I can still scent your, coconut in the wind. Tasting bronzer tint in your cheeks.

Eclipsing. Glitter kiss contemplates, while in terror gates I bathe. Prayer interrogates. Layered trails of separation, trials and godly whim. It’s sick. All, of it is.
Whimsical roundabouts, swings used to sing, all these pretty hymns. Their empty discords linger in, fragmenting unison. Diseased repeat. I’m thinking.

King. Without his queen. Snapshots of future scenes, fiery reprieves. Back when I could have made a difference. Morphine. It’s nothing. Addicted to your image. Imprints in my lids. Envisaging stillborn lineage. Soliloquies within. Scathing epitomes. No amount of stranger sympathy will bring you back to me.