The breathlessness of mist-bearded stars
and the pervasive vibration of telephone poles
clashed together in a discordant harmony
so loud and insistent that my bones ached
and forced me to the ground like an animal,
bewildered and terrified of vast spaces.
My head paddled itself into the
four darkest corners of the universe
and shattered in a thousand epiphanies.
Prostrate, I turned the dewed grass salty,
with fingertips impaling the earth in elegy
of my two-seconds-ago self, lost forever.
If there is a God, the poles hummed,
or rather if there is a god, then
no father has ever been so absent.
If there is a god, my eyes sibilated
as they melted in a funeralís pace,
we want nothing of such faulty divinity.
Dizzy with an inexplicable melancholy euphoria,
I clung to myself and giggled deliriously
as the world careened in a drunken circle,
very human, very cold, and very beautiful.