🚀 go-pugleaf

		The blood sunset is dying,
		Slowly vanishing under the
		Onslaught of Night -- that
		leering, wretched King of
		Crown Jewels.  It Taxes
		away my childhood rocking horse,
		its obsessive race that goes no where;
		my one-button-eyed Velveteen Rabbit,
		never lost but worn away by love; my
		first Kotex maxipad, stained distinctly
		with virginal discharge; my black-bodied
		Buffette Crampon clarinet, gift of
		Orpheus from the Elysian Fields; my
		first love's kisses, held captive in
		his jaundiced porch light; my 3.8
		college average, indicative of
		lost sleep and little else; my
		philosophical rotation from
		atheism to Christianity to Jeddu
		Krishnamurti to nothing, spinning
		all the while yet motionless; my
		faithful lover/friend/(dog) Buddy,
		who despite his emotionless existence
		does not endorse Night; my brother,
		Knight of reusable ink cartridges
		false duty to one's parents and
		incomprehensible humor; my mother, Witch
		of all card hands; my father; my
		dark-haired Love, who retaught
		joy in the stars and simplicity; --
		The blood sunset is dying.