Fourteen

 

Sometimes it strikes me

Like a déjà-vu

Distant visions

Cursing my day

Blue paper

Folded into nothing

 

           Spastic movements

           Fourteen plagues

 

Old grey man, unimpressed

Laughs into my face

Ticking in my mind

But stop it you say

Try stop infinity

 

Strange new pulse

Beating odd meters

Tearing flesh

Sucking blood

I have a nice item

Of execution toy

A joy