My tears are--
Narcoleptic diagonals
Collapsing forward-

Motion into neurons-
Bound-by-arteries
Instead of gravity.

They find construct,
By fluorine cyclamen
And wildebeest chantries.

But to understand
Is-bygone-remorse
Made of much more
Than clovers stitches.

Needling skin into bone.
Thoughts from flesh.

Why--
Are-trees-growing-smaller--
The hippocampus un-decipher-able
With black-vortex-branches

Wielding buried-
White-holes sparring mass.
We the curiouser,

Feel with butterfly bones
Singing silently in silicon-
Chantries-

Isolated to our heads
Together theres a warmth of
Cheeks--
Others bleed cold.

Ever-changing vocabularies
Are blurring pain-
And love into-
One.