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Literature Text
This bruised and battered
levity
Backs me to this wall
and fit
To curl and pounce
in Burgeois vogue
On every wrong you've
done me.
These empty wallets you've
lent us
Are little padding for this
curtained room
In calculated moves
of a warring art
Against the hum of this
ever-twisting machine.
It's time I called
on you
In new serendipity,
harmless
But everlasting
once I pursue
Sketching plans
in Higher Truths.
levity
Backs me to this wall
and fit
To curl and pounce
in Burgeois vogue
On every wrong you've
done me.
These empty wallets you've
lent us
Are little padding for this
curtained room
In calculated moves
of a warring art
Against the hum of this
ever-twisting machine.
It's time I called
on you
In new serendipity,
harmless
But everlasting
once I pursue
Sketching plans
in Higher Truths.
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I originally began this as the lyrics to a song for a friend. But it spiralled out of control. I tried to restrain the pen, but it did whatever it wanted and dashed to and fro. This is the result.
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