This This

this slow sunday

this lazy, lethargic

wound down

half picked up

semi acceptance

a proximity of

paradoxical permanence

this flat entwined spiral

asleep

upon itself

all fat benign yet viral

in deep

this vessel of pestilence

a heady mixture

of this and this

and that and that

a bit of tit for tit

a bit of tat for tat

this crown of fading despair

held down in splendour

and a mantle

of marbled wolfen fur

and time simmered wrath

with something else

this done and dusted

this segment of closing

this serpentine speculation

this spiritual posing

not wanting to scrooge

on duck deals

not waiting to see

where the luck spills

remembering a life

of bold brazen cheap thrills

pretending that love

is just clingy fuck feels

all i have left

is the rest of my life

and so if the flesh

remains as willing

as my god is

supposed to be

then this this

that it is

is what it is

dunno

we'll see