giving up the ghost, penning the posthumous end; at the beginning. As the crow flies above moonlit skies be patient-give thanks, the clock moves forward again; therefore so do you. therefore so do we
The battle wages onwards, Against fine lines and wrinkles. Let me get my coat.
It follows wherever I go Hovering weightless Ready to pounce It is the afterburn The subtile listlessness Entering doorways Coatsleeve caught on the door handle It remains tethered Cannot cut corners Shaping up to be odd angles.