up nobody has, children (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)

trust seal

          is cylindric 

        to estranged

backdrop 

on the 

whole thing 

for good as

    the mud flats,

when traded 

       with living blood

in labour like 

 the souks 

you in hatred 

for the upkeep of place,

bloodline always 

choking and why 

we move 

 those who 

   did not 

feast 

to music is 

    rustic meal the 

pot of 

    the same food,

 inverted milk 

     snuff from 

the roses and 

it’s own business,  

we a plate 

      of victuals 

that would 

   still have 

no discipline to 

  counterfeit 

this vitreous

    count to choil,

     whilst cutting

  over the 

  hydroponic 

      muddy feet 

               for maudlin,
      the unknown mob 

             where mosquito disperses 

          your heart-rhymes

all that 

    has gone before us

       has to  do with

 table manners