With each rap-tap at keyboard,
my shoulders lessen ground-downward.
Every line bears the weight of
three blond hairs lost from
stress-worn crown and temples.
They fall to freedom from pain
and stretch-clenched jaw
of words unsaid.
My mind bears witness to the head
of cold winds blowing north as
my body decays and illumination
seethes inside my being.
The coal-bearer brings warmth
to my lungs, my blackened lung
that cannot express through song
the path on which we travel.
We: Me, Myself, and I.
My pale lung runs against
sideways rains in a summer shower,
crackling lightening,
trumpets of thunder,
and such fear of finally being stuck.

Hit
with
brilliance,
scar-tattooed
by Gods.
Spiraled electricity
fills my mouth
and my teeth
chatter
no more
for lively
expressions
of weightlessness.