Just Twilights and dusks cutting through the perennial night.
My Tabard is empty.
People all around: Laughing, crying, whining..
Swapping promiscuous encounters, tales of regret, singing swan songs stepping over bones in the dust…
My Tabard is empty.
The window complains… Leaning out I see the serpentine road in the moonlight – mocking, jeering
2 in the place of 29.
figure of eight – reef – hitch – figure of eight… Hurry