I should have grinned when morning came
Atop posts of gaping day, with lunatics
Humming dirges of a broken world.

I remained glued to my gloom.
Rising from the pit of hell, I held
Concupiscent cats hostage.

The course of their waning speed of flight
Harmed my precisions.
From a boanerges' point of view,

Fierce elocution dampened by grey voids of
Unassailable haunts cripple the badinage of
Myths celebrated at dawn's memorial.

I weep through the voice of an alcove's
Muted spirit, one grace, forlorn and dew-wet,
Re-christened at sable-draped ceremonies.

Haunted by such recurring whims of deliberate
Schisms by harridans, I crawl on both knees,
Filching webs atop crests of arachnids.

I should have waved siesta's flag at 3 P.M.
Lush vagaries of new-sprouted greens yield to the
Mockery of phlogiston,

Leaving behind banters from drunken laughters,
Crackles from prostituting fires, meek and ailing,
And hells of sweat from my aching head.