1:03 am.
Thoughts.
From one of these, an emissary must be
Wrought.
Pondering, a flea am I,
Perched and preening 'pon a shadowed rock.
1:03 am
Stalking solace;
One of these, amen.
Imaginary posits that I mark
Which must embark
The monsters in my closet.
Odd and hot.
1:03 am
Molestation and accosting
by my gawking clock
And lost sleep.
Unknown, art thee, my mending;
Wrapped up 'tween pretend and
Whence your scented ends upended.
Still in shock.
1:03 am
Wondering alone, I keep a man
Below me.
Name of Loneliness,
I only know his shoulders,
Chilled unto the bone,
Tilling hills and boulders
Homely as the groans that he bestows.
The ashes smolder.
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