Seascape

6 a.m. is back around like 4 a.m.

I'm drunk on tulip petals

Probably shouldn't be here, doing this

Haven't had a good sleep since the torture started

But I come alive with a night kiss

Opened up like a garage

Hooked the typical fish

A wailing ship drifting

In a wonderland

Sipping

Cucumber cool, caramel milk

Spinning like the wheel of a mill

The sun is coming up over the hill

The pink sky is glittering like an eye

Art is my oxygen, art is keeping me alive

I can't glaze over it

The burden is the heaviest weight

An anchor on my chest

I'm kicking the habit, can feel the pulsating rhythms

Quelled emotions reflect like a radio wave

I ate the hot root

The horizon has expanded like a roof

I'm not fully there, I'm here

With tousled hair

Feel like I'm wasting away with every new idea

Like a dream that turned into a nightmare

Peering at the seascape

In a moony state, down the passageway

The peal of bells reverberate

In a shiftless daze

I pray for moments of clarity

Poisoned images like sound pulses

Flicker like rays of morning sunlight

In the corner of my mind

Vacuumed thoughts, in sync, shine

Like the blinding nightlights twisting

Playing mind games, poetic delusions

I am a war machine, rain filling the creek

A glitch in the matrix

Taking life one step at a time

Waterlogged moonbeams are refulgent

Refulgent like modernisms

Fucked my brains out umpteen times

In the warren, in my sanctum

With a thin waistline

Aphonic like the empyrean

I'm watermelon, like a peach tree

Seen death

As microscopic as a wafer of silicone

The plough cuts furrows into the soil

After the post-mortem I could've cried

Waterfalls for one thousand years

One thousand nights

I've never been this hungry

Just like a sucking mouthpart

Melting Red Leicester

Cut off the cap of the stalk

Toga waves like sucrose

Flushed away the evidence of summer

Several hours have passed since

I unravelled like winds

I'm flying too close to the sun                                                                                                       

A spirit of Icarus, the architect of ecstasy                                                                               

The feeling is transitory like happiness                                                                                     

In the neck of the nightingale                                                                                                               

Barcoded                                                                                                                                             

I speak the truth                                                                                                                         

Pouring the blue substance                                                                                                       

Caught in the stasis                                                                                                                     

My head is heavy on my shoulders                                                                                                 

Like a mountain.