Make way !
Another drunken dream.
heaven, sweet-sour to the tounge.
bluish darkness cold silver
Found you
at the bottom of the bottle;
another dead end
or an abandoned garden.
"Again." Hide behind,
sinking ships and smiles.
Time runs,
never on our side.
warm tones yellow gold.
Back again? count seven.
As always,
it only ever gets harder.



© chrysippus