Ultra

By Alexander Grutza

I pick my thoughts bare

Combing through the haze of time

In vain attempts

To grasp at scattered straws

This prose,

Sponsored by half smoked hundreds

Ivory keys resonate

In the angled corners

where the walls meet

The sound bleeds, the catalyst

Rousing the Ferryman to make his way down

Memory Lane

Such a familiar trip.

Shabby baggage brimming

With Bitter sentiments

And Rose stained opulence.

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Alexander Grutza

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