Breadcrumb #615

KOFI ANTWI

awaken morning

star, once beloved 

brother, submerged 

in flagellant thoughts– 

now buried dead 

or alive, and bounties 

rise and mark–stock,

a belated 

shower of 

roses – an unholy 

atrocity

the undertaker pivots

narrative reclaims faulty 

grounds, without 

permission we proceed – 

tainted souls 

begets a lofty 

slide, allude 

the great valley of 

mourning, the moon 

renders fainted bodies. 

snares of 

french kisses, 

april –  lets depart 

into the fading 

intrulude of subtle goodbyes.  

i got the blues,  a rift 

love – me  why?   

lush coupes and white 

ice. down the blvrd – 

we     boogie and 

hit  the Spanish Key,

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