Every night I take another pull from the spool.
My dream-ribbon unwinds, a toboggan rolling off a waterfall.
noisome clouds adorn the quiet evening.
my desolate thoughts drift insensate;
as I turn, the furniture is upset
a rug clenches and slides
there is a creaking and squeaking
an earthquake’s grumble of thunder
they are as particles wafting out of my ear.
My interior design is rambunctious and usurped.
Finally it glistens below the skein
a hollow tube maneuvers and a liquid worm
encrusted with a black film that trails in its wake
and the solid form of a soft creature below untouchable
i fiercely nibble at the rope its train against the naked sky
suspended over the chasm courting emptiness
swallowing the throb hard the cold blue fingers
the empires of flesh and revolting hands
to be one instant longer without breath in view
toes spread the clasping clip of disillusioned wind
the crimson eyes spinning
the sickle-shaped moon
a splash in darkness
ripped through an abyss
unholy angelic deluge
the kiss of goodbye wind.
a hollow edge of a seashell
a crust of salt on the brim of an overturned hat
flutter butterfly faces out of liquid sunshine
stumbling toward the narrow breakway
fathomless depths of shadows –
One more soul-shard pawned off
the tickering spool, I die a little
it can only tick so far…
I wonder my eyes open so easily.