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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