Sweet grapes? There was
no exit from the question
hour. You left the sky
for an answer, after a soul-search.

An appointment with unknown
scares you. It will not
work.It will not breathe.
They had taken away the gold

and left coal mines.The aliens.
You become outsider in your
own home. The time drips
on your unmooned face.

A middle low pain and a middle
low moan will prescribe a
valley of terracotta to make a
new road where you can walk straight.