Untitled Reissue

On empty shores,

with footprints set deep in foaming sand,

I balanced my weight between rushing sea and solid land,

Until the bitter taste of day gave way to the sweet of dream,

as if floating out of fiery chains into the gentle arms of sleep.

 

Through the night I slept in broken shapes;

shifting, tossing then-

delusions of escape. 

Dreams revealled, with no method, laws nor ledger,

these things which science could not measure.

 

As I awake my cold skin shakes and shivers;

the morning sun presents itself in slivers,

bright-red bottom sleeves in eastern mist,

salty grains, crystalline upon my lips.

 

Shadows of forms on bended knees,

murmering in tongues, like lying thieves,

begging for the purity of essence,

bathing their souls in solar phosphorescence.

 

A gathering of the devout,

who spoke and prayed and cursed aloud,

amidst the groan of mountain's falling,

like a nest of roaches crawling.

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