Implicating
yourself, and telling lies
was an art.
There was always
a trapdoor. Giving a lot
more, than getting less.
Same unthinking
prevails. You forget to
feed the adversaries.
Very nightly
a moon crashes in your
path to meet a colossus.
The thin lovers
again reach behind the
sun. No fiddles were needed
for deaf people.
The blues are going
deeper. You drift like a
cadaver in the moat.