It is with a jagged knee
I crawl to a cut of sky on the horizon
Burning museums in black smoke
Drunken bird malaise
In a smothering of pinnates floating like
Technicolor waves blurring all the bumblebees to an Ochre Opaque –
Blistering to my eyelids
I hear my name silently screamed from,
The muddy cement of this basement
So many voices that Dr. Faraday cannot reject it.
Chained in this soot, swallowed in this melting.
Imbibing in artists paint
I am trying to search for the ghost with the familiar voice,
To pull me out
I feel like I am searching for a specific ant in a pile of grape jelly.
I need more of the precious dawn’s light.
I am darkening in this solitary funnel of rot
Removed the rainbow from the sky
And juiced away the passion.
