La Petit Mirth

No dust shall settle upon the rapture

As boredom is worth consummation

To live and to die in dream

Remaining self-unconscious

Among our refractory shadows

Masochism all so becoming

A sufferer’s bastion

Crimson enfolds itself into ash-blown moans

 

Rapture shall not settle upon the

dust

As we are boredom’s consummation

Falling upon the kitten’s tale

Flight’s despair so graceful

Hubris, in each humble estimation

 

 

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