An autistic autumn
Dreadfully dredges
Through arduous articulation
Of minefield memories
Should I tiptoe through tripwire
Detonating delicate desires
Then this throbbing thorn bush of ire
Shall forever fan this flaming brushfire
Housed in my hurting heart
Cupreous collage, copper hinted age
These are but rust tinted misgivings
Portraying a patina past of searing foliage
That I am repetitively and rapturously reliving
Without an end, without a start
Lethargic from lack of lithium, bipolar insolence
Ruled out in rural and rustic, I rust till I am rotten
Consequently, I constantly live in condolence
For me, for you, forever forlorn and forgotten
Author notes
My muse and my vice, autumn.
Comments
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I like your use of alliteration, although it seems to be to such an excessive degree that it distracts a little fromthe poem itself. However, the imagery is very strong, and the whole poem flows very well.
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