A thousand thoughts,
And, silver reverberations,
Are slithering under my clothes,
Under my skin,
Hiding in the corners,
In the attic,
Under the bed,
Inside of my head,
Under the cobweb,
Behind the smoky incense,
The lace curtains,
The light of the scented candles,
Singing with glass bells,
And, forked tongues,
Exploring their lives,
Denying their lies,
Every one of them tries,
To glue back together,
The scattered,
The shattered,
The badly battered wings,
Left behind by ancient things,
By dragonflies,
Of wondrous size,
Who once were fabulous and wise,
Before they chose to close their eyes,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Thinking of what time buys,
Spitting out iron nails and rust,
Into circles made of musty dust,
They must, have marked,
With their slashing, lashing tails,
Attempting to pay with the gold from their purses,
To fend off the wind of the dreadful, dark curses,
Collected along the long waits and wrong trails,
Hidden, away, in the valleys and vales,
Forbidden to sleep with the toads and the snails,
Escaped from the maximum penalty jails.
Here’s wishing you well, and that nobody fails,
To keep the demonic possessions away,
But, it does not appear to be working.

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