And even no air

The empty laughter
beautiful love poems
and singing birds are rare
the poet is in prison
the drunk clang unseen
the soft love is primed
but the rage is here
not love and rage
yet pity is only seasons flown wide
against drunk sadness
for air gone not glittenkeys
the poem singer fresh by words
lends not fat zeros
has the eyes spark fires and to it even make itself not be pity
hard stare has to creep winging for now