What vomit thoughts came upon the horizon
Under what rock was the red sun rising
And whose slave was who’s fool’s gold
They paid you the king ransom, debtors both
Sated, upon the dark breast you swam
Tossed and tumultuous while the red rock
Bore a moon, swansong king
Feeble oaf born of a vector lamb
The throat of time swallows the Hawk
Gallant final pirouette into a sky
That wanes every year
Time’s frayed flaw
Masquerading as a seer
underneath faux veneer
an asp’s cloven grasp
and the sweet venom numb
What was taught never went unlearned
Where nothing gained, the naught puzzled
And furrowed its steely tail
Brain pierced and unwilling
To succumb or surrender
No lessons
were retained.
5 May 2020.
Quarantine/Isolation 4/5/2020
Difficult To Cure 
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