I.

nothing burns like your narcotic touch
scrambling me up on a black cast iron pan

nobody seems to see
how I chase pages through chaos

see them swirl and turn
and bleed and burn

I can't ever get it right.

II.

who is behind the foggy mirror
looking at me with indifferent eyes?

who paints the horizon with invisible hands touching hearts like a master?

who still breathes eternity after unjust, and mangled crucifixions?

what glows in the haunted sky of your mind besides a great light that nobody can quite define?

I have put my surreal hand in the colors of your canvas just for a taste of rainbows.

I have caught whispers in my silent web that I still eat from time to time.

I am chasing pages through a broken window, my ghost follows but is too slow to catch them.

Hellish hounds barking through Texas winds snapping at my words.

How did they find my heart so quickly?

I am forced inside
book covers
smuggle me off between your arm I have forgotten the way you walk.
it's been too long.

how am I to live like this?

I have been disconnected from
the colors.

The multicolored fire spoke like a raging Dragon birthing its cruel babies in my thoughts.

Nobody is here to listen.

Phantoms of creation
screaming red reason at black injustice.

When will a truce be made?
integrate me now

I am full of midnight cemeteries and there is a stranger walking through me,
kicking over head stones, ******* on my manicured lawn, dishonoring saints with black enchantment.

III.

I watch dawn lick the trees with a perfect tongue

no words needed

to invoke a mystery

no pages fluttering through a broken window.

Trees line the sky
like frizzy punk rock hair
ready to jam and mosh
as your light combs and sweeps through the morning
burning me with softly lit reason.