In These Broken Down Hours (Edit #2)

I was told...

I was sold...

I was pulled

At the plug...

...'til the eye

Of the Newt

Held me down

On the rug...

No one new at the

Counter of

Life,

I've been told...

...Then in walks

A girl

With a fleece of

Hot gold!

...Glitter gun,

Glitter glory...

I am nearly

Dissolved

In a glass of

Warm milk

While the puzzle

I've solved

Keeps on coming

Apart

At the corners

Once fixed.

Is it time to make

Good?...

...Barely count

The third six

In the sale I

Just made

'fore the

Taxman

Comes down

With his

Hammer

Of fire

That's intent on

The sound

Of my shattering

Skull...

...Fond bone

Shrapnel I know!...

...I've become quite

Acquainted

In these broken

Down hours

With the cat and

Mouse lovers

Who devote all

Their powers

To refusal of

Death,

And denial of

Fate...

...There are shades of

This theft

That we must lastly

Face...

...Such as,

"Who's this well wisher

Who now

Comes on command?..."

...There are

Not enough curtains

From Conservative

Land

To disguise this

Warped humor...

...One can barely

Stand clear

When the weight of

Our Monarchy

Cracks the raw

Mirror

That had stood between

You, and

A thousand

A-holes...

In these broken down

Hours,

With a long stemmed

White Rose

Just to bring me

Enjoyment

When my tread has

Worn thin...

...There are shades of

This theft that

We'll press

To our skin.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire