neuron flash in fifty watts pinpointing to the streetlight limbo.
told me it was chemistry why i behave like this.
why i move in misdirected impulse and speak in scrambled clusters of white
traction is not a term of endearment.
death is an experiment best conducted face down.
vertigo may not include spinning, but it ought to.
i am languid in the puddle, face full of concrete cellophane.
don't say a single word unless you speak with a drowning tongue.
i am not listening. i am not focusing.
my eyes have sunk and set and i am invincible.
i'm water proof. someone said that heaven is just coincidental collision of
this is not the time for touching me.
i am a conduit changing colors, frantic humming televisions,
conducting city spasms, shorting voltage like a fuse.
the elevating vibrations of hysteria, amplified by the armor of the tarn.
flashing lights paint veins across the sky.
and everyone along the roadside just wants to see a saint.
the serenity of sirens, the allure of the femme fatale.
her defibrillator hands can't stop me now.
i feel quite all right.

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