I'll Bed Futility

 

He swung like thunder's cascade;

 

hungering for hillside embankments.

 

Shelter, negotiated;

 

brought from prone to standing at behest

 

of no particular voice

 

would rain down on him once settled in.

 

Jagged remainders in tow,

 

he'd continue reaching for the soft

 

in spite of itself made gaunt -

 

in spite of it never wanting him.

 

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