ever since
the rupture of
my plantar fascia
i have found
a pervasively
foul mood has
taken root in
my cavernous skull

perfect fodder
for spinning horror
not so good for
spilling out
pints of brackish blood
to foul the waters

i have stopped
dreaming
never settling
deeper than the
barest hint of sleep
leaving no attempt
at recycling all
the incidental noise
so rather than taking
the distillated vapors
to fingerprint new
panoramas of loss
there is only the
interminable fog
of agonized dismay
in which to plot
a poetic detour

better this than
golden delusions cast
in beautiful smiles
bitter intrusions
of chemical surrender
as insolent untruths
a pain which while
ever present is at
least reality based
not a confusion of
sweetly delivered
cotton candy contusions