written whispers and nicotine mornings

I saved a song for you
right here –
in my artery
Shouting in hushed tones;
the universe and the constellations
that seem
and become
a different flavor
in my corneas, as if
the world were made
to please my nostrils…

And those written whispers,
end up in an
ordinary napkin
or uttered to the wrong
taste buds
potentially creating new hues
for the soul; embarrassing the northern lights
or dicing the meat
of the mind; making a common butcher proud

and then comes the nicotine mornings,
because the dark periods were
just as bad
and I needed a hype
to continue on
with this ridiculous
hopefully fictitious –
monotonous charade
that apparently insinuates

is better
and the song
will still

here –


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