III. ANÆMIC DEPTH IN COLOUR

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We gazed, at best, recently; 

One cloaked aeon binding hands in forgery 

To dream of a burrow with chemical wonder, 

Pieces at heart taking juxtaposed wings 

Leaving me part of my anaemic depth in colour 

Once coma trails turned inside-out;  

I must fixate - 

Shifting in towards lunar patterns 

In secret, so I think, 

Through conflicting shaped inner clockwork -  

A white face once provoking 

Now red flowing at the peak 

Each tooth still has chance to change higher skies, 

Removed by friends of ivy, 

Their peak reaching my narrow ground 

Cyclone travels towards home; the magic 

Foreign mantra that gripped and is still trying. 

We gazed, at best, recently; 

One dismembered rotation must be seen