the sun always
seems to rise
no matter how
catastrophic
his mind becomes
a morning comes
where the coffee
percolates
he twists open
the hanging blinds
light floods
a room of shadow
exposing truth
to a sleepy fool
birdsong swells
the gloom is
albeit briefly
dispelled again

a solar powered
dream machine
recharging slowly
as the sparrows
trill joyfully
among the hanging
skeletal branches
the icy dismay
melted under her
golden embrace
for a moment the
infinity of anguish
becomes just another
trail of spectral
kisses coursing
along raw nerves
an overstimulation
in dawn’s relapse

he sits alone
a tumorous sunspot
desecrating the day
where promise hovers
over the tongue
of dancing flame
a greasy smear
in semi-human shape
divinity in abhorrence
staining eternity
saturated fully
a gas soaked rag
tucked carefully down
the neck of a wine bottle
as the sunlight streams
through myopic
magnifications to ignite
a revolution of sparrows