An Unrealistic Metaphor

Hands cascaded in an approving way
But faces grew longer than they had ever been
before.

Something about that day, it’s grey illumination
led to a dark corruption that sank
and quieted the quiet
but fuelled the loud bombasts.

Like an assembly line in a pickled cucumber
day dream, things fermented acrid–
&moments were soured by 
unflattering vignettes

Gnawing pestilence comforting loss
while dreaming darkness evidenced
desire glossed

Finish your tea
for it will grow stale with chill
While hearts will soften
over warm pints of ale.

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