With a fly across my lips, your paisley wall, Like the interior of a chandelier, Floats like a cartoon span sporadically Into motion. Commotion, as the grimmoire that observes Every moment as they occur, cauldron that stirs the blood Through the vein, is broken free.For a moment The sky was loose, we were free and we were floating; But now we watch as insects dawn our skin And dismantle our presence. My hand spirals the green neck of the bottle That splits us, departing our lips indefinitely, And you intercept to top your own glass first.