Chasing the Dragon



Pearls--blackly luminescent--fade

Under the burnt midnight oil’s parade.


They burn clear

Onto weakened corneas, thrown

Into sharp relief

And resplendent

Awareness of the now fragile hand.



By the perpetual, persistent


Unable to break the glass film,

Left merely to wait

for tangled, dangled


Upon the warring marionette strings.


Painted birds sing tainted words

And encircle half a memory;

Semi-ignorant to the significance

And blind to the influence


As the descent begins.


An ocean--blessed--struck

Deaf by unexpected voices

That wash to shore and break

As waves.


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