Stroke Of Midnight.
As words written.
No witty rhyme.
Only Kubrick Stares.
Languishing Looks.
Riveting Armour.
Amour.
Amore.
Whatever.
Just an empty sucking at the soul,
Wherein thy spirit in close proximity –
My aura enveloping half the system,
Recoils at Entropic Fuel.
Inversions.
Gravity.
Void.
Only Kubrick Stares.
