Does a big gay brown fish-cat
stop fighting
even if you cut it
in half?
Does a sense of whatever is impending
stop returning
even if you say
it is not there?
Does a really good poem
blinding
you to its majesty
really need that much flair?
Do yourself a favour
and spare
yourself all the energy
you keep expending
on trying to pretend
that you don't care.
If you don't,
then let the sleeping dragon
sleep; its purple head
needs some air.
Its big rippling muscles
and chest lie flat, and bare.
It's the sense of a world ending;
only the unindividuated are brave enough to dare
to sing; are you still listening?
Why?
I thought you had
someone else
you wanted to impair.
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