An Evening Poem

FWFTF

That Granted Slumber

choked cold breath settles
sharp implosion in dry dust
barking at a bruised soft belly
strangling the inner compass
directions lose perspective
grey flannel lids blink weakly
muting the former brightness

blinded a flame of oily dark drops
slip within to stop the loud beating
birthed to dam the crimson stream tight
to block that constant lightning vessel
electric messages green and yellow
bumping a slap at the pinball stuck
a dirty beggar playing coins to tilt

shot when losses mask the wins
in deafness lies cool silent relief
or mirrors that only smoke
rising to expose their fall
as animation ceases into
that granted slumber, or
the final lie bought

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