“Handwritten Duration”

Mechanical organs and broken clocks.

That’s all I feel.

Torn pages smeared with ink,

echoes of sonnets from the brink.

A tattoo on my wrist,

stemmed by a vein he once kissed.

An empty meadow,

a quiet breeze.

A wasteland liar,

an apocalyptic tease.

 

One thought on ““Handwritten Duration””

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