On Oversimplifications

Fall in love, to stumble down
A staircase is to miss the corners
Curves on the light
And plod head over feels
Or the beautiful reverse

Either way's a bruise reconnaissance 
Renaissancing with middle age
Zero to a hundred
Since tick marks show
How to say old
In any language

Dyed hard, hairless trees,
It's falling down around you
The winter, coming near,
Metaphonic birdsong
Dealt a bad hand
By a crooked dealer
Assumed deadly
So unquestioned

While the temptation to
Devour everything in the 
Cupboard is a baseboard
Heating up a room
Without a sense of temperature

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