Capillaries - by Craig Turnwall

these permeating stark five a.m. revelations are killing me
along with the light from the screen I see in my eyes
with taste of warm water on my lips
in this Friday night head hunt atom split
all my molecules have been breeched
against the voids of windows into the citys heartless
cascade
where it forces its genitals into my face
while I dont look away
stare straight into its throat
wonder how I became so naked
drunk
wielding nothing but swords and tired eyes
chosen madness
weightless like purposeful ambiguity under an oak forest canopy
that is my dying street in
French light and silence of fear
stand me up straight
dreams of words lost into webbing
items stuck, phrases unholy
how the past begot the present
how the present molds me to wishes of the past in these five a.m.
revelations
killing me

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