Cocognaratif resmelting.

I came to see the dead that waste away 

At the stacked cards of stratified cliffs 

and try to sleep the gloves of this caricature image.
Shaken off and Still At large swimming 

along the low tidal to see the architectural dance 

where the Bull that dozed whilst drunk 

And fell into the sea.
A dalliance with tented Buoyancy 

Poetry That only comes watching those 

sink holes appear Whilst in the night chair 

Of the branch lined Insecurities of Cognac 

fuelled pen of Lost in the thoughts

of smelting lovers lane to make a ring.
As I can’t move on or off the bards scrawl 

Those Thirsty strikes of the ribbon suits 

aperitif bodes well.

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