there is an
overflow
from the weeping
wound of meandering
heartgasms
a spillage seeping
soundlessly
from beneath
the rotunda of
trapezoidal painschism
as a cool wind of
stasis embraces
the enigmatic spine
of encumbered
annoyances
i wilt
in a storm
of ashes
wishing one
ember would
ignite my
weary frame
Mike's Manic Word Depot 