Transcendent Desperation
A fever struck bullseye,
nightmare of layered mouths.
I am the cauldron where
brews medicinal and noxious steep.
Drunk through the pores,
they grant me rapid waves;
pensive in the anguish that follows
sinking crimson waves, I rise.
Vacillation-swaths,
a neon-swirled mélange
painted and unpainted
by the sun's rebirth-demise.
Tines foetid singing through ears ringing
recall the deep-red, see it fall through sleep-funnels
(wormholes extending back to the beginning,
a luscious scene before black-red sweat, sing with me
and remember, you are free.)
I am miles above the scalding amphora now;
this revelation will never die.
O God, please...
Consecutive darts
from serpents' tongues strike deep.
please don't go
please don't
This elixir of suns and blood
has half-drunk me.
I'm begging you,
don't leave...
ocean-drops darken the mural.
without you
I implode.
I am oil burnt on wood to ash.
O God, please,
let me die.
Poetry
Written by
on 5/11/18
.
Photography by
Somadjinn
.1 — "Fall Forest Shipwreck"
2 — "Bleeding Grunge Rust"
3 — "Frosty Christmas Trail"
.
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