And soon… the blue and sunshine
Prisms will fall
Off my finger-bones, skeletons
On the outside, wither
And drop of one by one,
Crinkle into pencil shavings.
Was I ever really here?

And soon… my face will crumble
To nothingness, each night.
And every morning
I’ll tamp it back together,
With coffee grinds and tears.
This brittle rind-head
Will split- so why not watch
Metamorphosis: A swirling
Oil-rainbow condensing,
Painfully, into a coiled machine
Hurting and achieving.

Thoughts speed by, or work
Studiously, and go to bed
Neatly, in their own
Separate apartments.
In those days I remember
I dreamed of dreams and oblivion,
But mainly oblivion.
I like flowing. If I came to nothing,
At least there was no pain.