I pour the expletives censured in speech
Into the vital goblet housed within my breast
And though it spilleth over my parched throat
Croaks out only names and broken poems
Stripping the connections between
My meddlesome synapses
And my more wholesome bones.
Apocalyptic signs shore up my senses,
There is not conceived but despair.
How does one escape the sheets
When the morning has already fled?
I would ride the sun till its zenith
If I could fathom such a fascist heat.
There are cages that both open and close,
Cages that we enter at night
Under the guile of certain shadows.
There are cages in which birds still sing
And cages that in time give way to flight.
I thought I might live my whole life
Small and conspicuous like a fingerprint
Away a destination accessible only in hindsight
The walls around peristaltic and irascible
But forever does not apply to the human condition.
A threshold can be summoned from thin air
And then all it takes is a step or a stumble
To find oneself careening wildly into an alternate frame.