…In Absentia (X) Make for security…

Practice dictates one must toss them a bone
While I pontificate that I’m much better spent alone
The color and consistency are off in the sky
Marking a V as they butterfly-stroke by

Falling treasure obscurity
Hawk eyes make for security
One man’s trash makes up angels’ wings
Absent conductors make for questionable strings

Bidding opens up its feelings
Bathtub opens up the ceiling
Balance retreating to the beat
Buying extra doors, with the same number of seats

Please be sweet, dearest creed
Mouth the words
Tender simplicity I’ve never heard
Perfect anonymity


 

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