Basking in
the holy glory of every single minute note my fingers pluck.
Sucking in
my breath I taste the chill in the air
And welcome
the brisk winter efficiency I feel.
All around
they walk, taking little note of me on my wall of carefree indifference.
The Kings
hover around me and cloud the air with lyrical banter.
Their cheap
wine does not spill when poured,
Every word
is precise but thrown about with such spontaneity that their message
Is measured unconsciously.
My closed eyes, relaxed by the swirling
sounds surrounding me
Sense
several significant changes in the atmosphere
Even
though they are blind to the physical world which wounds
Tighter,
twitch, tick impatiently.
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