#74

 

So here I stand

Above the city

Yes, I like things grand

Your face now blurred

Obscured by time

Underexposed, slurred

Lacework of recollections a

Lamentable business

Haunted by my projections

Above my head a new moon rises

Unbiased and keen

Naked, bereft of guises

Tacitly in its eye I gaze

Maiming myself over and again

Each time! As my intuition says