angrily tapping out death

romance is dead
they decry
bereft of passion
they bemoan
their flatulent
corpulence
smothering
beauty
leaving no
recourse
for poets
but to resort
to necrophilia
striking flint
hoping for a
spark
to light the
darkness of
a world that has
forgotten
what it means
to be in love
accidental quixotes
chivalry
having died
leaving an
ignoble corpse
zombie knights
chasing perfumed
handkerchiefs
the damsel
always seeming
to be in
another castle
plumbers on shrooms
seeking salvation
in the sewers
running just under
truth in misery

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