I Shot the Serif
these bricks
I labor to layer
like sturdy scars
imprison me
as certainly as
the runaway train
roaring through my brain
jumps the track of reason
sharp barb lurks in the dark
the point is silence
I move between the taste
of rust and blood
hook slides from jaw
with the simplicity of gravity
I swish free smoothly slipping
beneath the quivered surface
burnt dusk oozes from the eye of night
cloistered with pain and wormy delusion
the dangling trap drifts beyond
I forage shimmering in the infinite dawn
