pride is a rustic regalia:
throbbing thread, cloak, punctured trigger
foiled detergent can’t lick the tongues
of sassy stains etched’n reeling robe
humility is a sworn spell
nocturnal nature seldom spells
on the haggard hay of merit
dark dribbles, wits by kindle lit
felon fame’s saucy silhouette:
hankering honour on tour shed
lanky litters of reflections
pored paranormal – fate’s fusion
porous pain’s the bruised breath of time
heaved on stances, withers wit’s might.
’20:06:07:11:56
Note: of porous pain.
Ancestral Trail 