wilted

there is an
overflow
from the weeping
wound of meandering
heartgasms
a spillage seeping
soundlessly
from beneath
the rotunda of
trapezoidal painschism
as a cool wind of
stasis embraces
the enigmatic spine
of encumbered
annoyances

i wilt
in a storm
of ashes
wishing one
ember would
ignite my
weary frame

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