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The Despair Of Executioners

By January 22, 2012January 22nd, 2016Writing

Where the chancy song no longer agitates,
and where the free parade like ghosts,
unpleasant thoughts spring easily to mind.
Jack-booted, nimble, cruel and quick,
they balance on the brainy snowwhite ledge.
Hours founder in the quicksand of sleep,
and boredom’s antiseptic tonic
anticipates a bright-eyed bestial season.

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