No soul left
No drunkenness of spirit
No wonder-eyed wonderment
Just a throbbing primitive demon.
A monster of the flesh
Alongside a nostalgic sensitivity,
Lives on like the ghost
In the shadows of the yore.
Remnant of thoughts
On a fading canvas
In luminescent moon
On forgotten notes of Claire de lune.
Dried magnolias
in my favorite book.
Like a whiff of spring mint
For a newborn hope.
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