The red eye sinks slowly, /no holds barred;/none, at daylight’s short end,/when eyes light up,/ like crimson candles /they bleed from a subtle poison./ When eyes go blind/ they fade as burnished lanterns,/ to witness amber scenes,/of gowned rejoicing women./A cold fire,/ in the fingertips beginning./There’s a recluse caught knocking, /unsure of his Mona Lisa,/a victim, with tongue curled/ on twilights’ only boundary,/ The whim’s finale, a way of snatching

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