A weight inside my eyes
[my
tumefied fear] –
That throb –
a prelude to my weeping &
then it passes
[dry greeting
my thing] –
a fat pain –
like
a hangover –
thuddy & slow
to shift –
an evaporation
[as
if picked off by aired kisses] –
sour afterward
[off breaths
our common complaint] –
A
clock face will never crease
in pursuit of constant truth
& visits of time enquiries –
I
know how this works these
days –
my depression fades
[but never utterly etiolates]