Artifice Caked Plaster: an Ode to Those i Will Need To See

Those days of idealistic vigour
Back in the days before the conversion,
Well still red wine splatters did not dissuade, to
inevitability.

Before the precessions on lost –minds, blips, of ecstatic rescore
blossoms of idiosyncratic rational between ash rain
blacking on the plateau abyss amongst the hidden hills, where Meadows
of tar, swirl
brandish the swords, brittle into dissolved memory.

Pressing along the walls, coffee fucked, riddled shekels, breezing tension.
another! Call on, another! Wavering favour to the highest limos.