our tempest of years.

Words of decadence swallow decay
swarming eyes in line to remain.
Shallow property of well-meaning sores.
To educate the thoughtless
or open up doors.
The dance has been over
for far too long.
we (you and I)
Are dreading the cleanup tomorrow.
The pamphlets and confetti.
Streamers and kazoos
childlike wonder
that never came through.
So the masks come off,and the frolic is to be feared
with the flicker of cinders
of our tempest of years.

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