Wickedness – A Poem

Many suns reflect under
brilliant memories
which erode under the flow of the rain.
My cause is remedied by the open
liquor cabinet.

To speak of that fair day

is the only fantasy still afforded.

A ballet of wickedness spirals before me
as I sip my drink in an abandoned

Go now. There the door, the gate,
the swift shadow fleeing
from the brightness
it brings.


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