Patterns

washed along, or emitting stacks
The parties return to shell games,
in concerted concentration
DOA in May
Disconnect on arrival
to rights, be damned and dreaming
of erosion, cobbled together seconds
in fractured and illicit fields
of vision, you lie
in the pooled insurgent
crust of well-worn auspices
Bleeding off, drawing down in
moments encryption,
flashing in pitch and fragmented
vision laid forth in infinite halves
of depth and of death
in breeding haze dimmed
and fading last rites
Waking fucked-off and parched
in suspended animation bled
and crawl to whet the throat,
fixed in searing lines
all the way through this beaming
deliverance path of makeshift
and grave – you wait
Informed in catatonic states
of chronic mass, absorbed through
surreally exposed grafts
coming down from wallowed
hallowed eulogies, gifted in tithes
rushing into the bloodstream
informing its finality
73