and he lays down again
after raging and slamming his brain into a bed
something muted, absent observant words
objective words, perspective words
can never quite encapsulate

that raw emotion all feel always
intangible
like the jaw-taste of vaughan
the van jazz neon net
(an album his father kept)

young hearts and their dreams
exhausted muscles at their seams
scream
scream
scream
into the wake of venus
and still bleed even with the advent of therapy

and he lays down again