Early Departure

A purple rose abseils down an alleyway

Revolving through an all-mirrored music box,

Replicating the descent of sodomy;

Amnesia lapses on second-hand sunsets

Thrifting antediluvian horizons

Propagating rumours of an endless flood;

Before it's too late, we dip our lungs, prick blood

And beg voids for the redemption of the Sun.

Limbo alienates, shames our nakedness,

We predict ancient rhythms as if we think

Of ourselves separate from childhood, the sadness

Appreciated only upon this brink

Of imitated euphoria, jarring

Oblivion's self-love to a motionless spring;

Moss overflows from the centre of our forehead

And we return to hell, as if we weren't dead.