I'm flushed in some
jagged circle, misguided
symmetrical circular conspiracy,
bouncing back and forth
through confidence and altered-reality,
a mixed-drink cocktail
glowing Hawaiian punch green into the violet night,
a complementary no thank you to breakfast,
with stomach rumbling starvings
washing over cobweb
painted walls decayed like old play-doh
resting on pure white window sills
I'm flushed into that night glass
ever walk-wandering
into that same same distance,
counting the steps,
kneeling over adjacent graves
cradled away.
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