Lust twinkles in the dark night
an account of worn-out passion
third hand loyalty
thought-out mainly for confusion
I abandon sophistry
own sadness
cry for any valid work of art
for an opus
a symphony
paint on a painterly canvas
words on a poet’s tongue
moan in anguish
at this visitation on my soul
howl at a moon in full first star of night
manufacture twinkling lust
to pacify imaginary chaos.
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