1,3,7, tasks completed,
Searching corners, cleaning deeper. Straight edger, clarified-butter, spread.
Injecting time, not money, dressing. Yaw.
Odd contingency cupboards brim.
Full of hoardings, treasure compilation,
Ordering, groups, burning debris.
Aligned pillars, posts, polished. Erased.
Incinerated sand to glass. In-vitriolic..
Encased in transparency, fine slices.
Taken for analysing. 7 year itch predict.
In a snails timeline, we observe little,
A route rather than destination, slipping,
Sipping, sluggishness or grand vision?
Bored but devoted to repetition remisión.
Adore the comfort, assured replete.
Tiresome rituals, objectivity’s freak.
Feelings are colder now. Jet-steaming?
Cessation of your warm embrace,
Leave chillier primary values.
Salaciousness fills a disappointed mind.
Engrossed in futures newest rhyme.
Objects I create, from matter or thought,
Betting tangibly torte/taught/tauter. ;)
Eaten, learned, under tension. Yearned.
Terminally underestimated restrictions,
Boundaries are imagined. Climb walls.
Easy-in reconfiguration, pearly drops.
Without editors, dislexias lassoing
Is missed in re-reads. See no mistakes.
Take over words in order, hear their
Pattern-chores, awkwardly.
Disparaged. Just can’t understand. Discouraged.
About the Creator
Paul Beckett
I’m a writer, horologist & joy filled fantasist. Reality to me is plastic. I’m fascinated with time, quantum physics, analogue and fashion.
My writings at least 69% autobiographical, often 99%
Fav:Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams- S.Plath
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