Poetry

these minutes circadian

 

the sunrise comes to me after you have finished with her
kept vigilance or without wait
she sleeps now for you and me
i catalog these minutes circadian

i have fallen without lust how will i survive now
nothing to do, no one

youve taken the till to my heart destroyed me
put green things in me to force me to grow
what shall i do when the harvest is over
beneath a sliver sheet abandoned

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