Autumn

Back
near the sprawled sidewalk
the thin twigs align to escort my ongoing impatience.

The oozy creamy world and the empire of midnights are at the entropy of my intestines.
A stalling wind swirls leaves like lips of a cunning wolf
underestimating the twists and turns of a mirror.

Autumn is igniting
and I am an adventurous beginner as well.
Laboring on separating guilt from pleasure,
or remembrance from anxiety,
empty like the miles I've poured out from books and shelves.

Dust reminiscence of repel and stray anchors.
Sometimes they would be burning in the crevices of my mouth,
and it would taste like forever.

Realized the beautiful eyes under the gallop of a hill stem
the sauce of every motion that I have squeezed from its name
is harrying the lavish coats rising to the scolding clouds as overshadowing turrets
and the spicy necromancers I've slain on the marvelous kitchen floor.