Bristles

Wandering soul, barely a quarter of its span,

Bristles at the wind, like harassed aged leaves.

Angry veins protest from brilliant scarlet eyes,

as crescent fumes ascend from a faulty chimney.

Shaky hands and shaky legs

fasten greedily to mints and

walk swiftly to lust.

Trapped a beautiful box of youth,

where all is fun and dreams are endless.



Photo credit: pixabay.com

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