The Bitter End
‘The Bitter End’ (The ****’s Tune)


The ‘****’s Tune’ sat on the
simmered sill
_on a smoggy winter’s day

An august light_
Bangs against the tortured lips of envy

Symptoms suffered by the Casuist
remind her as she washes her soul
from its greed

Multiply fractions_
forged_ endless
inside two dreams

While measured space bends between
vacuum’s beauty_

Think_ think_

Compare the redundancy_
Bend solace_ lent in light
Spit bent between two moons
While fighting Tormillo’s fancy

Dismembered_ final-liberty
A story’s muted maze is still alive
_still alive

Is that dream still alive?

Well… kill it!
_before it brings the bugs out!