A tumbling river of psychosis, towing me down the line
Finding the speaking tree, where the levee bends skyward
Eyes open we shelter shock our dirty socks into piles
then flop down in arms spent days in
  shaking for longing
    longing for being held

A strange place to find yourself, down this road tonight
Bright lights on tip toe through the needle sharp live oak
Cough up and choke on the last broken syllable spent
  in a corner store snoring
   symphonies

Beetles on the screen and all it can mean is the light is
attracting them
A stem on the prefrontal cortex was forced more or less
open
Serotonin blue potion puts life back in motion with
little to no commotion


Here we are, finding the time to slice rhymes into watermelon triangles
Here we are, losing it all over again
You and you and you and you

Tired old men with their heads bent low
taking the salt and brine in tow
hooks like daggers
skinny steel
octopus
rings
for
a
fishes
meal