Lazy Eights

Lazy eights ’round the floor
And flashing neon lights
Fringe flirts in flits of black and red
Round and round – pools dead

Hazel glass reflects slow smokey glows
Smears and smudges drift as dry wood
Petty tones vibrate old bones
Inciting each madness to bloom

Daft, flourishing in fright fogs
Sugar coating the offal flesh beneath
Still sweet – alluring; boiling
To the myriad madness in wait

Pungent provocations enlist
The rain to wash ‘n grow
Spring sprung forth from dark figures
Enraptured in the facade

As wind speeds past, striking
Unintelligible harps wisp
Dazzling in a slow pulse
Of desire clouded – clouded

A tender garden telling
Wishing, washing tons of lost lives
Touching fronds, wasted and weary
Of who will tend the garden next

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