LITERAL
Parenthesis
Some days, I feel too
Finite -
And I get tired of
Hollow eyes and jejune wordplay.
Your tinsel syllables jar my ears.
And always the counting, counting,
At the back of my head (not like)
The steady pulsating beat
Of the clock wiping
Its own wretched sweat.
Hitch up the corners of your lips
(A skewed parenthesis)
And look, be, pretty.
Another season till the roses bloom.
