The lime trees are heavy with the glitter of wind

Words like a host of flies buzz inside my mouth

A fire roars in my head an apocalyptic holocaust

My sentences articulate themselves

Like an ****** bruise on a boys neck

Appearing with a rapacious and concentrated existence

Forcing me into an uncompromising solitude

A concealment like the sitting of a stone in its own shadow

I am on the other side of time where transient moments

Imprint themselves on other people’s minds

Forming and colliding in immense fictions

But there is also a sustained silence

Within the speed and space of thought

That holds the creature of my metaphysical anguish