i woke to a sky
painted by rembrandt
only for these
van gogh feelings
to bubble little
depressions leaving
a steel gray storm
hovering above my
every fleeting breath
a rusted dagger
between the second
and third rib
inserting tetanus
into already heaving
lungs of stagnant
daydream regurgitant
picasso sketched
my reflection in
unsettling honesty
as a munchian scream
escaped my throat
shattering the illusion
life is anything but
bosch in demonic splendor
feasting on divinity