eighty

when I close my eyes
galaxies arise
the blackness deepens to a foggy gray
all that was has gone away

fan blades pause as I adjust
abstract myself from neuroscience
bags of sand melt into boxes of space
music musings
skin and all that was wrong with you
pour it in and all spilling, full.

CONSTRUCT YOURSELF
CORRECT YOURSELF
all will flow like acid, eating through metal
and every time I think
my, my, you should compose yourself

‘fuckin’ chill, man”
lost in a dark alley, sharp pull of scream
tears
senses cued for thought arrivings
shiver and stirring,
moved.

floating through fields of gilded gold
clouds, heaven
wait for it
wait for it

coming

there.