…idle diligence

I am slow

but I reach for things

stick to them hard

I strangle them

hold them

in their death

eyes vacuous

reaching at constellations

in an abandoned sky

two kinds of flavour

for two kinds of teeth

sharp and the sweet

the bird on my back is heavy

his song impales me

with notes of an idea

while all the flowers I planted

burn away at the roots

petals of glass

thorns of reverie

defenceless I’ll

slide on

dragging myself

down this

lonely track.

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