The perils of exposure
latent, lest you recoil from the realisation
that you've already said too much. Biting
nightly those nails that fall as vascular exertions
repeat themselves
nightly, repeat
themselves or nought
idyllic, shimmering closure
that resounds aspiring as
Antigone flees from water-logged clay pots
inciting plots,
Merman that rots
in a flimsy fort,
of a childhood's lost dreams
nonetheless,
a fortress of truth
filled to bursting by my Arcadian aberrations
frightened Briton basks in the bell-toll
enemy conquered
bastion pock-marked by the destitution of
man's lost hopes against
man's idyllic meanderings.
fought for neither right or wrong.
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