i'm absorbing the pain of your lacerations -
the tattoos of your mother's screams
etched in between your knuckles.
a canvass,
whitened and deeply dented,
takes the form of wordless, celestial aspiration -
the manifestation of release from an invisible prison.
your clanging tin cup on the bars asks for logic -
in response,
the uncompromising transmission sits in silence.
your mind does not deserve such a fate.
under opaque bedsheets,
a reversal in perspective unlocks the gate.
a house divided may only stand
if division negotiates with gravity
in blind faith.