the birds scream
at the chalkdust
moon in a tumultuously
sequestered madness
under wan blue skies

drifting
carelessly through
past participles
my passive voice
sounding out dismay
shifting tenses
to become a
discreetly
subliminal series of
desecrated hymnals
muttered dully
by pivotal criminals

the sparrows are
frantically hopping
begging for the
sun to at last
crest the horizon

time is spastic as
hoarfrost slowly
spreads across my
organs leaving a chill
in crackling whorls
dementedly numbing
spacial anomalies
as flash frozen wounds
become scar tissue
apprehensions in
jagged refrains
bound by icy restraints

i sit at the edge
admiring a view of
impossible angles
in a sheer panic of
demure devastations