Epic stuff from Mr. Howl
I can’t help but think
that this is it.
As the gold leaf page of dusk
and folds into night,
the post mortem will specify
But you know I know better,
Clothes taut from being over worn,
because you said they suited me.
Every letter I wrote,
I pray they were torn up
And I transcribed you into everything,
when there was a time and place for it.
That was the reason I couldn’t look at you.
The reason I left,
the reason I changed my name.
I fought off the family curse.
I killed off my old frame
in the coldest of blood.
It is but an amphetamine day dream
now and then.
It’s a pleasant thought
of pleasant times, of content
reservations, but it’s no surprise
that it all comes back around to haunt.
Leave me suspended,
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