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Titillate The Asylum
A slow waltz of klutz feet
Stalled in the gray floor
And jaded walls, interpolating
Raddled frantic words
Siphoning the senses
Like a sapped blood
From a pierced neck
Encumbering the souls
To sleep, to rest,
But the fatigue can
Not be quelled
Bolted inside the corolla
Of petals cloaked with enigma
Butterflies shall attend to you
Gorge your skepticism
With their virulent dusts
And you will be inveigled
To sedate the blossoming
Until the petals are toppling
From the lambent withering
This is not a heraldry
So hold on to your fix
And be grotesquely
But not be ugly
Before you sink in
The gritting marquestry
Look around you:
Watch the sea gulls
Conquer the sky
Mirrored by the sea
Accidentally dividing
The feral unity;
Watch the cars go
Leaving a robust fume
To wash away their sorrows
From departing and
Cleaning their arrival;
Watch the elephants
Parade their power
Stomping on the dusts
To create motes
Of no worth
And sad fate.
Look around
Muse upon
This absolute madness.
In this sea of lonely
The waters drown
With their own depth
And as you reckon
The baffling verses
You shall sink
Inevitably
While your dreams
Are buoyed up
Splicing the lace
That tangles sanity
With subsistence,
Existence,
And quintessence.
Inject a faith
To your delusions
To abolish this
Incarcerating asylum
poem
by
Norman Santos
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