Dissipation

Time to assign
a sign of the times
Why not comply?
Come ply me with wine
Come puncture the gourd
with an old iron sword
and give word to the wards of the mine

Taste with hearts light
stone tunnel so tight
So near the knuckle
Dug out with such spite
The bravest of burrows
from the grave to where gull owes
nothing to the fisherman’s might

Flotsam that’s formed from flotilla
as a hot summer storm grabs the tiller
Where once sailed a fleet
‘Wants’ failing heartbeat
greets Lot, seen his wife as a sinner

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