Gothic
Landscape
Thought’s
colour broodingly inks through to the skull,
Seeped
to pour and stream into the brain.
The
bridge is moored there through its anchor,
Above the liquified riverbed afflux.
The
skeletal fragments of a backdrop,
Etched
architecture of a Gothic replica.
Its
organic structure today looms out of the fog
Which to
the stoner is a mesmeric enterprise to induce Funk!
Through
the viral air of a city masked,
Its
denizens the very harbingers of their own Hell,
Introduces
the notion of Dantian comeuppance.
Tramping
along on Bachelor’s Walk,
Crossing
the widened Carlisle over Gandon’s hump,
Only to reach Eden the irony sits well.
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