From the Cashew dough and nerves

Of Gold and Onyx gossamer

A veinless shell excretes curves

That fornicate with the soundless air;

Spontaneous, filling as it sinks

Into the infinitum of a seed,

The eternal adolescent thinks

Of the enslaved, coiled breed

Which seduces all apprehension

To recollections of a soul’s tension,

(Now contrived to an intention)

Learnt by a child’s invention,

His hairs and freckles, of a crown

Interlocked through the brown

Iron drapes, swinging above his frown

Of Violet, splitting the Pan’s and Tea-bags of a Town

That floods and rusts with the liquor of a mashed skull,

Spontaneous, sinking as it’s full…


  • onepauly

    handle things on the mantle

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