Bare streets
brare skies
like lidless
eyes awaiting
visions from
the sulken
brawl of lamp
lights

An odor of
the hour
climbs the
speaking
steps of stairs
creaking
in its case
a ghost mandolin

Baby why we need
to turn against
Love
the flush cheek
burning like
a wind slap

Happiness was
a cup a home
to lovers
crawling through
its lairs
sipping of its
ale its drink

now its silence
and tranqs
by the sink

Venetian swatch
im broken at
my watch

glueing
visions
and stepping
on the vase
of broken
hearts

...