Rubbing Amber

The new monks like moths gather to the light
scree falls into the folds of their feathered skin
robes amid foul screens callous bawls
window shades pulled down
the game glows with electric flames warm
and hand wrapped wireless controllers
fingers jostle the joysticks.


  1. bristlehound says:

    Macca’s in front of the telly. B

    Liked by 1 person

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