Sunday, August 8, 2010

off the perch

dark nebulous room, no moon, eyelids can’t bat,
taut clutch of its density, gasp in the grasp; destiny
tied with last hope, time taking place,
in the non-breathing dreams, day-trapped fireflies,
locked in mislaid doorjambs, wedging fallow womb’s,
in the strait for flight, a sticking night overlies
a black claret vein, giving off a self’s getaways,
evading, in vain, ill fated ways,
in to the essential dark night,
vivid as darkness, a spot with an abated intellect,
remote in a small makeshift night of deceit;
tapping me with my body trapped
in the cerebral portholes, gaping neurotic Elysium,
where, there is a nowhere,
a night’s perceiver alternating, now, here.
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