these over-wearied strictures!
Just seconds from now,
we’ll be in pictures, ready to dry up.
The last drop from the penultimate cup
has thus been sipped,
and since I’ve snipped
each one of my desolated fingers,
I’ve been more or less without a grip
on things as they seem.
Lay off the dream, naturally,
then lay the lucid and quit.
A last ditch moan
escapes rough-hewn lips
only to land on no ear.
Nobody is coming, this much is clear,
but real effort may have been put forth,
for all anyone knows.
Seal me with a kiss, please.
Last time I’m gonna ask politely.