Morning and a broken mask,
the agonist in pain.
Yet the persona stays,
ready for sin
- of the flesh and
that modern man's
Achilles heel
- the extended night n life;
and welcome prayers when
the red skies get lighter,
while the bile gets darker
in anger; then hangover.
The organised recluse,
goes by the book -
a worn out heap
of newsprint, held together
by poetry, ego, phone sex...
And incarnated siblings,
variables ranging from
the foxy and cruel
to the proxy and novel;
a sweet 'un and the real
- a mirror image - the blood bonds!
The visor's repaired; time to swipe.
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