All's Well That Ends

All’s well that ends, a sky pink in silent transition.
Unless two drunken birds swim in solid,
Unmapped climates. Then, choking on an impostor,
They two fly for conjecture and foetid grace.

Gasping flood worms teased by lightning, livid
Assumption wriggling for soft-carpeted days,
When dusks tampered gold glistened piss
And pensioned grandeur. Imposition cowers

Before faultless pillars of affection, mourning,
Prancing in shudders. Wretched imposture trips
A rough echoing, tap trapping the room,
Breathless. The end beats hollow at the door.

Mourning imposes upon the end, like dawn lightening
The wriggling worm. The end’s morning breaks
The shadowing impostor, each stone bearing
Wings of affection, casting pillars of dust.