Poem I forgot I wrote

 
The poets will be out this morning
Their ostentatious pens
Crumbling malnourishing words
Like breadsticks
 
Let love charge up the hills
Neonise the skies
Fluoresce the street lamps
Ensoul the brickwork
Along velvet-moss lines.
 
Let the misplaced love dance;
Speak in place names
"Thank you for visiting Luffenham"
Let it duck analysis,
Let it aurarize her head
In a close-enough, glowing silhouette
 
(It spikes if you squint)
 
All until darkness comes running:
His long boots
Thudding up the hillside;
muddying the moss;
filtering the neon.
 
 
His black cape flapping
Taking up the inculcitrant hills
With unearthly steps.