What organicity!

Moon was coming down

on me. A visual alacrity,

accepting the surrender.

Journey to dead phrases

begins. Revivalism?

You dig out the extinct remains,

the forbidden Anemone, daughter

of Mars.

Come once, to my side,

to receive my fervor,

making me timeless.

Desires were ace runners.

Mind picks up the cobalt blue

of your eyes.

Now you go blank―

against the cult. The thumb

was set lower than the forefinger.

It will not pull the trigger.