Confusion in Underground Clouds

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I am constantly flattened

by the spiral galaxies in your molars.

Dust and debris billow and plume as you speak,

I breathe it all in and hang the lights on the branches of my lungs

listening to the wild wailing forest

of guitars unstrung

and lilting.

Say nothing of the eyes. Singing mostly of the heart, the cells swimming away rushed by a current of blood.

The halos blazing rings around your eyes, blue and green, yellow and orange.

Pallets of white in the static; a face emerges slowly taking form, moulding something out of nothing.

Rose flushed in,



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