Apollo illuminates Dionysus with a cutting laser edge carving meringue mosaics
into the nebulae.  
I'm enslaved by the concept of the interstellar
on the edge of the bed, my feet tapping into nothing as willful seizures
bring ****** sensations to my center, now nothing but a distorted face endowed by contrast
of shadow on black and white 35 mm film.
What a wonderful, heinous thrill it is to be so utterly and completely lost in the transcendence from the heart of darkness to the glow of a thousand suns, humming the beat of a million drums, attempting to attain some kind of summary, even though you know all too well where the stellar direction of man's folly has lead to before.
Wicked...yes.
Someone, somewhere
Anyone, anywhere
No one, Nowhere.

I run around in circles
like a stray dog.
Kicking a ball down Cedar Hill road.