Summer Doldrums (A Writer's Requiem)

Haunted thoughts of rusty pens sheathed,
That you should be mad in the darkness drifting,
That the world is nothing if not yours bequeathed.

Though the doldrums that kept me wreathed
In scholastic cages monthly shifting,
Haunted thoughts of rusty pens sheathed.

I never got to write, but static noise leaked,
From my pen like a random shifting ,
That the world is nothing if not yours bequeathed.

I slowly forgot your name, barely breathed.
My glamorous past kept me listing,
Haunted thoughts of rusty pens sheathed.

The dogs in the cages seethed,
Their barks vulgar and resisting,
That the world is nothing if not yours bequeathed.

Oh my lover and my cheap pen creased,
A tragic benediction of misused time twisting,
Haunted thoughts of rusty pens sheathed,
That the world is nothing if not yours bequeathed.

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