Dazzle

I keep vigil all night,
in a black coffee darkness
without sugar & full moon.
The collar of my topcoat
gives me shelter, protects me
from the moral weight
of my loaded gun;
I'm laughing anyway,
lurching uncertainly
with a twisted spine.
My movements are tired this evening
and sitting about is painful.
Consonance's just an illusion,
bustling for a riot, deadbeat,
with dying waltz music
and morbid day-dreaming.

Their vocation derives from frustration,
around me, they grew old, untimely,
dead bodies, dried out faces.
They come, they shout, they get drunk,
and finally stumble
in depressive solitude,
sleeping till morning,
on confortable mattresses
by overheated stoves.

One day, I saw a footprint,
a masterly molded contour
on the crappy floor.
My thoughts ran on Crusoe,
alone, defenseless, naked,
on a deserted island.
I fought wild beasts last night.

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