Lines redacted

Sink, heart of mine
Slink back into line after line
of compounded compromise
Founded upon lies clung limpet-like
to denials rotting framework

O’ my swept house!
Rock pools and dog chews
in mock-Tudor dress
Shocked nonetheless
by self-fulfilling prophecies
of self-appointed soothsayer

Druid turns truth slayer
to prove they are
nothing more than imaginings
these magical doings
I create and bestow with wax lyrical wings

Fly! My pretty little things
Skyward he flings these shitty,
brittle belongings
Of talent and torment the swansong sings
For eulogies must to the rose-tinted cling
while blinkered bliss junkies
stab banality’s needle in

Spring forth and stroke chin
about what could have been
as from potential’s smorgasbord
you grab another chunk of anonymous flesh
The smell of feline empathy

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