In consideration of density
that pressure predisposed
and vibrating its victory
its outgrowth is maddening ...
magnetized by its sheer will -
fallen, fixated, heavy.
Its horizon all measured
and weighing in slices
of colors knowing another
brighter, lighter, former
heaven beyond those shadows ...
those doubters too, know their
variations until the morning
there's so much to do ...
Hardened by the overcast
stuck in the residue of 'being' -
kicking and scratching
harnessing up for the familiar -
that persona, intact - acting
up a storm, complain about the rain
remaining, clinging on in triumph
staying on board, addicted to
the noise, that base, pulsating
keeping time, racing towards
infinity where we used to laugh
playing with forms for fun.
This identity is so strong
It grips and holds and honors,
admires, consoles and squanders,
coveting, envisioning a future self
tied up in biological senses
sustaining for that next hit.
The next attempted naming of things
remembered, banded in the past.
Covered by degrees of melancholy
sounds absorb their static
folding along the edge of the framing
leaping out of bounds and
slowly, perfectly going around,
down, down, down - the smell plants
its roots betray the soiled mess ...
its leaves have fruit to eat,
but protects its own harvest
feeding off its juice for a
succulant devouring, feasting
and ingesting itself ...
distracted by reflection.