Abstraction

Amnesia. 
I want to drink tonight, 
purple hellebore. 

Like to protest― 
the display of private things. 
The humming. 

The alphabet of 
betrayal. Who wants 
the award? 

Amnesia. 
I dream of dying, 
feeding the doves. 

Was it too early 
to start getting dressed up 
without a show? 

Amnesia. 
The hyphens don't 
connect now the broken strings.