i sing the body eclectic, and mourn the failing day as the luscious night unfolds a myriad of shadow and pours the hearth of nightfall upon the weary. i glean no good from my hard liquor, but sup the dregs of my shark fin soup and wither, expanding... i command the barge of my going to the yonder pier and peer into the cauldron of my fickle mist. the first blink of a marble statue must be for love and i see now, the dreadful splendor of a constant. the unfocused fist of a star on the horizon and the stillness of a riot in my lungs.