Wishing for Blossoms – a poem

Pink blossom drifts pile up along

The inner roadsides, lit, lining

By iridescence guiding, fuzzy, like

Tongues kept on leaking batteries,

The mad scene is set.


Knelt down beside the depthless pool,

Dipping in fingers, a whole hand,

Disturbing the laudanum bloody waters

With lazy gliding motions, don’t falter

As the scene darkens.


Shallow cuts made in strange flesh

Harken to memories of other days

Where we kept better vigil, alone

In the dark, shrieking for morphine,

Wishing for blossoms.

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