Whatever, Whenever

At times, when the spider turns to a chandelier to a clock

All of the modernistic wonders

Could not compensate for

Lights on, lights off

In silent contemplation

On second thought——

Box the harpsichord 

Your days fluttered by

Like shadows and smoke

Wherefore the dance

A flowing constant

Is it morning yet

I failed to deconstruct

The anatomy of neon light

Close your eyes

Kept it Schoenberg on replay

Count to seven

Only a lucid reflection left alive

Some dissonance

2019.07.

By Aran Meredith.