The Jaded Aesthete

An unwavering temptress,

A simple flower,

Made with rain from thunderous showers.


Tying off in the dim kerosene glow,

Despondence heightened by the falling snow.


Pilfering all I can scrounge.

Eager to hawk an heirloom,

Under the cover of a sullen moon.


Powder or tar

Either way, you’re never far.


I draw you back,

And I push you in.

While my friends sit back, to watch me sin.


You’ve lent me ecstasy,

through the prick of a pin.


Tis time for me to go.

Away from your darkness,

Far away to someplace you can never go.


A basilica erected for the apathetic and jaded aesthete.

A shrine of rumination and light, adequately complete.


Do not fret my decrepit adherent,

My liberation is no longer a pipe dream.

An apparition, abscond in the darkening eventide.


I still think of us, from time to time.

2 thoughts on “The Jaded Aesthete

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