indecipherable spots

of indelible ink
on that wall
of drunken thoughts
divides us
in secret
more absurd
of a violated guilt

plastic words
slowly fade away
in that unvoiced rhyme
put the poet to sleep
in a sleep
of wadding

a thousand haunted accents
-fire into fire-
they are consumed by now defeated
in those concepts
of soft black velvet
who are forced to march
in a procession
of mutual loneliness
accompanying
sadly absorbed
the chipped coffin
of that pale poem
that never was
... and never will be ... kissed
by an inspirational muse
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