the atmosphere is thick as illusion viscous pantomime jello radiant music of the damned scoffs escapes the air won’t accept it.
I’m too sparkling for my environment. a testament to fluid and scepticism typhoons under my eyelids; methane nostrils the concussion of my heartbeat my dreams are blind orphans wild. they pant like dogs in summer.
I speak in the ritual sorrow of poems I lament scars and suicide and fat children born like cattle for thier hands and bellies I cry and my tears evaporate and crystalize torn flags of my nation, my heart. I burn for you and the flame is blue
