to Abandon the Luxury

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Looking well within the glass…my motives have not become clear.  My thoughts languishing in all the abstract.  Scents often replaced with sense.  

Reaching down to the bottom of a forbidden well.  I cannot abhor the green and their backs.  My thoughts have for the moment been more prudent…less abstract.

No matter the abandoned luxury…I find myself leering at the mechanical trinkets that detract.

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Lazy Visions

An attraction to the abstraction…of pelting rain.

No cleansing.

It does not tame.

Set down in the bowels of the north.

No zealot with a zenith can tame this…

a winter’s feast.

Ages of those who pour the word, abhor, upon a beggar’s feet.

Travel with frequency to the belly of the beast.

All with visions of lazy travel.

And, most, who picture least.