Visions incandescence
grows dim on odd days,
practice of virtue in vain.
Gossamer ramparts,
getting lost in this maze,
numb now, Novocain,
almost feels inhumane.
Seraph's hymns, soft hearts
comply, descent in July,
chasing words like sugarcane;
asphyxiation in August
left me searching for solace.
Miraculous accidents impart
panic, for the hopeless I pray,
great lakes swell in my eyes
when the hills echo your name-
just tear me into parts
and I'll pour the champagne.