TALIESIN’S HANGOVER
We are the ghosts,
And the demons dance
Roaring in our blood.
The holy and the profane-
The weather of our tastes.
Better would be silence
Than a thousand poets
Limping their rhymes
Through barren landscapes
They mistake for freedom.
Bitterness shall wake us,
Beauty put us to sleep.
—
simonhlilly 
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