On a night of ferocious joy,

You catch me,

dangling feathered charms again along the bow.

Your face contorts,

Just please let Jupiter explain,

Why I don’t dance.

The sky is static now,

Freezing my demeanor,

Splaying out my panic.

So I cut the rope and drift,

Count the breaths and hope,

That as I’m deep in salt-mist,

That I’m free from all the noise.

Burnt-out stones and lost ambitions,

Linger on the coastline,

Something stretched and smudged beyond the line.

Nothing now but buzzing,

And the cling of sodden air,

To get me high.

(c) Accidental Tentacles 2017

5 thoughts on “dɪˈsəʊsɪeɪt

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