...a deathly serenade...

do...
...and be..?
...why will the night take me along the path of Kali
Yuga...? though the obliteration of sense seems so
melancholic sweet, like a hug under a strawberry
coloured duvet filled with the smell of yesterday,
though today I still walk along the pavements
contemplating the invisible happening we call death,
the strobe lights of an opening bar, the odour of the
mystique summoned by way of a workman carrying a
pink torso, like Sylvia speaks of, but my mouth moves,
mumbling into the night that soon moves into dawn,
along the canal watching a fleet of birds sift cold air
into the lightening sky where legs feel numb now from
wandering the streets... to then be sat against the soft
cushions with continuing thoughts of death doodling
this...
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