Burning daylight inside incense sticks
meditation tricks in a psychobabble circle
pull what is mine into myself let the rest
                                                                    go

flow  
     as streams of vinegar placation
lazy over the surface of those
             worn-torn-skin-leather rocks.
it's over and you barely felt the drop, as your black-faced angel
    [sweet messiah]
pulled you from the edge of that advancing ocean
    yourself
        undefined.

It's easier now to live through the TV
  swirling static crystallising
thumm-humming against your ears
as nothing more than something you can really
    feel
  [in choreographed 30-minute blocks]

  now you have your beginning-middle-end
go to bed
  forget about
  your empty heart-head-porcelain shell
and the way that it bends
     till it snaps,
like bramble in a fire
so full of heat it must explode
     or
branches under fleeting feet
a hunter dreams asleep
atop his pillow
   "of ******" (I'd say)
"of the chase" (would he)
    "they are the same" (spoke God)

And left us silent, stunned.