Flicker from the exhausted eyes
Still through my veins now rush
Murmurs of unforeseen hope.
Clichés of depth cannot catch
Pin code of pupils now lost.
Far beyond catalogues and volumes of calls
These my beacons of aquamarine light
That’ll shore my being to the end of my stop
And blanket my cheap-rented sleep.
Distilled in brief little glimmers of sense
I long for a reciprocal glance that’ll shape
Prospects of words beyond items and price.