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A Sunday Run

Inside the eyelids, all at once i
own the infinity.
When i didn’t sleep,  i just
let my eyes fall…

only to watch them: color molecules
and flares

while i could never put names to any! As if they’re
no different from the primitive
syllables locked away in the Arctic
Damn. What kept these things to flicker?

A raindrop…

right here on the bridge of my nose. Soft as
a hangman’s fairytale kiss.
I didn’t wake up. Not even for the battalions going blitz on me

Lovely pill-popper (pop I);
virginal
capsules that could jump me to furthest cosmos (bob I)

but I lay here on this bench. And sleep couldn’t fill me like death…
Then I figured. somehow. The Flares.

primitive ghosts scraping through
my unprivileged

corpse.

Published inMain

2 Comments

  1. Damn.
    I love the way you weave your poems together.
    Another gripping piece that engulfed me into the deep nexus of it’s emotion.
    Tfs your beautifully creative mind with us.

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