the conscience pink-slip
to swan and sip the rainbows drop-shipped
the silvery transition drip-drip-drip so beguiling
the knock-knock apprehends the permeating silence
the vista from near the top of the tower shade
the non-player characters attenuate
the falling feathers echo
the thud of a fallen feather..
compartmentalised merit-ants
bend as they snap storm-tossed
watchtowers beam their atoms shrunken blesses
as the cryptocracy crystal ball-visualises
the strongest heavy-hitting lid closes ever-tighter
comfortably compressing the compressed
as all the coincidences neatly lined up in a row
are always best-dressed..
another knock-knock stills the uneven air
where a few of the chosen ones waver
all the treats all the baubles
their beautiful white noise not quite..
not quite vanquishing the within stirring within..
that purer voice dilates the murmuring
knock-knock..the last chance presents the
offer
to those ones not yet so gone..
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