Patchwork hound of spoilage and shadows Counting the comets above the twain matters Of astral comportment you deign to use as eyes Muddling the planet with disastrous charms I could scarcely appreciate without humbling flares Missing isn't even the first clause of any gospel I imagine for honouring Everything but the woman priming the barely white dwarven stilettoes For their cyclic home in my troubled mind, so harried by infrequent conversation That I've imagined my way into many out-minded bedrooms that claimed thoughts Lower than the bond we steep throughout any shared afternoon; Always friendly in crowds of spectral lovers building cases against being forgotten Remembering every first of every November wherein all souls but ours before sunset Wager trauma bonds for their outcomes with families responsible for manifold scars When all we need is When all we feel is Ticking of the world into the tankard For our viscose exhaustion; it be a marathoner Needed to top thee little miss scare-all Stretching across your aged wings Relinquishing the noxious ebb of responsibility For the pang therapy cannot reach To fan a butterfly upon a heart filet Before these peri-apocalyptic untrained eyes ✍🏾 '<span query="get(title)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">Amoral Balustra</span><span type="end"></span>' 📍 <span query="get(municipality)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">New London</span><span type="end"></span>, <span query="get(province)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">CT</span><span type="end"></span>, <span query="get(sovereignty)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">US</span><span type="end"></span>