Let love loom bombs over Indonesia and my tropical thoughts, holocaust the taint brandishing my ecstasy.
Vague abstractions permeate inside me dwelling deep and dark through joints and bone and brain.
Opera screams on hilltops viewing cities simulating the feeling of apocalypse. "Eden Blues" make the neighbors weep invisible past thin poster plastered walls.
Violin scatter crescendo while my bus scrolls down the triangle mountain towards fissure threatened oceans.

My face is tired, my umbrellas have gone from yellow to black. Optimists of the soul have become realists and whether or not that's a good thing I don't know.  

I often sleep past my alarm,
I often sleep.
Mostly out of habitual lethargy.

But swift sparks a light!
On this bus I look ahead and see a vision transcendental to all immediate sufferings!

Dotted hazel coronas,
fracture my mirrors,
become my reflection,
my vision and perception.
Freckle gentle lips, rejuvenate my decay,  autumn hair tied back
become loose and
illuminate my tragedies.

In some years I'll be across continents treading Vietnam and India
Crying for our time.