. . . Loathing The Heartless Mist
Tigers, dragons, and clowns lace the shore unseen
Plotting, blotting, and killing "a" dream.
While struggling bones reach a sweet odor it seems
Every drop of his life; every drop of her drooping life
There sat I weeping the last teary tear.
It came crawling slow--mocking the rain, blood, and snow
Taking its pleasure and seizing the time.
Making a life pulse frozen in a useless lover's rhyme.
So watching her wink as the heartless fog so consumed.
There I cried, there we died, and her kisses turned to mist.