Stitched behind the merriment
Some chemical experiment
The pheromones that make my fingers wander

Linked within the subterfuge
The embrocating lust ensues
Intoxicating thoughts that cease to ponder

Bound beyond the vigilance
The cold veneer of innocence
The wealth a weight we quickly wish to squander

Caught by that which oscillates
The dislocating thoughts sedate
The bounty that your beauty seem conjure


About A. P. Christopher

I'm a cynic, a nihilist, and a pessimist. I'm a hermit filling the interior walls of my empty cavern with the words and pictures of a mind adrift in disparity. I also like lifting weights.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Conjure

  1. This is simply wonderful. I love it.

    Liked by 1 person

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