Drunk on Alliterations
One by one, the symphonies sound,
a flourishing salute to the broken glass syndrome.
Constructed, canonical current of clatter, clank, and clink.
While we, a broken drum, distort the beat.
One by one, we'll shoot off guns
Lacquered bullets of brain, brawn, and beauty.
Bound to miss, miss, miss the mark.
While none of us is the wiser.
Clinging, clutching, clenching.
Lock jawed until further notice.
Submerged with our heads above water,
Gasping, gaping, grappling.
Undone are we, or perhaps not so.
As sutured limbs reattached, reformed, redone.
Reborn are we.
Dark stars no more!
Rejoice, as we begin our descent.