hot clarity-- from shudd'ring paroxysms,
the stabbing attempts at drawing breath--
I see people: people
as fragments of my selves,
as bits of my grey matter
gone
to slurry themselves across space
and time--
unbound, infinite.
Newborn starlights;
galaxies, progenitransient
realities; lives, dogmas and
unintended pragmatic cataclysms-- all
(macrocosmic minutiae)
evolved. I spin hurriedly,
forming darker and darker cores
(tighter spirals);
thicker masses,
(denser blacknesses)
smiles; intransigence:
convex vortex cremates palpitating corpseflesh.
Shorn in context, locks in keys flat
make a bloody, disharmonious (hairy) mess:
shards, splinters;
I've something to confess:
(aguey mouth-strings
rippling out:
crackling throatcroak
caterwauling in doubt)
jealousy is neverending, it seems.
If only it weren't for my dreams.
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