rolling around in a fever-state
beat the alarm again.
maybe it was the sunshine seeping inwards
limbs shaken into the day.
blessed by the rev. jim jones.
yeh
thanks.
outside, the purple lilacs call
whose petal drip
a honey dew
beaconed further
in.
closer
at once
the intoxicating rift of ambrosia connected
to my thoughts
drunk off bee's legs , the bunch on branch whose own weight folds them down.
deeper then.
sickly sweet , a turbine in my mind, flailing electrons bewailing.
in awe i stare
at the beauty of the flowers
who will overipe themselves to death
crumple lavender bones to dust or dirt and earth
to seep into stone
or
float
along
alone.
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