Winding Down

Nothing but static,
No longer romantic.
What is it with you?
A typo redo.

Pour me a drink.
Then flush me down the sink.
Let them tell you
What they think.

Get out of here, Finchly.
Why don't you just leave.
Get out of here, Finchly
We're up past our sleeves.

The clock keeps on chiming,
Dusk mighty dawn.
You've lost your good timing
And wits now sit on

The mantle. You're a
A heartless, cleaving
Candle, with
Castanets and bon vivants.

Down the stairs, clacking,
A crackle buzzing haunts
The crashing scoundrel
To the floor.

Bring me panic,
Nevermore.
Call me, my dear, now
Through the wire's bending ear.

The wheels are turning ought
Towards the terror thickened plot.
Across the grounds
And in the pool, swimming

Swell that swallows a fool.
Now, at the bottom
Holding court,
A man, machine and Rappaport.


4/1/23
​ZONE S2E4