Sweet Goodnights

By | 29 February 2008

From the taxi your head spills
Followed by your stomach
I wait, my eyes skirting
Reading the watchful night
Broth mist breathing, descending
You pull up, groan, your wild eye happy enough
Now that you're fixed to an address
The William Blake dreams you'll have are
Un-contended, beached like every apparition
To only exist unreachable
Or prized away
Like photographs taken
Torn up on sight

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