Folly pt. 9999
Out of conversation
Stirring moral gumbo
Squint red-tinted as if
Looking through a glass of chagrinadine
In a surely tempest
Grassed at impasse

Mute in the mind's eye
Sifting through hindsight
Every find was a light
That's already burnt out

And once silence is broken
And patience kneels for me to climb up
I pay tribute to the sunrise
The perpetual ripening
Among the sticky-sweet decay