I am dead.
Cloven flesh, spirit
hiding shadows, some place, no place, sow
below the flow of thought -
amiable calamity on the part of the
lethargic.
That sense faded west
tasting living sweat and I
can’t even feel the uncaring
caress of ill ideals seeping through
green-blue, all eyes gray through prismatic
roots.
Wheels touch paper wedges,
circlets adorning colored names to
beats and lengths of waves, crystalline
wrists intact but
can’t my legs catch the
drift?
The day fades salty
across my brow, spit up
gentrified goodbyes dancing the fine line
catching boldly to dusk,
webs of light casting Terra’s abortions into
night.
I feel adrift atop
bending winds soaring,
grasping at the sky;
I’m laughing crawling forward, snatching
feelings named in my self-absorbed
ways.
Oh! how it bursts forth!
Explosions off in the distance
tuning eyes to white and back again,
heaving ribs spitting venom,
ideas ***** abominations, I feel at home at
last.
I cry at simplicities
feet, todays imagined forays into
Death again foiled by a common
sense which refuses neglect, wresting
forever rest from out my chest, a wasted
breath.
And what to do with
indulgent Death?  What of
her bright eyes catching mine,
shaken thoughts grow cold
inside, so cold she warms my flesh for
tomorrows.