A Confidence Trick

              The junkyard prose of "faded glory"

           a holy fool

              dosed with ultra-potent synthetic hallucinogens
             (smeared onto door-handles and taps)

                and locked within the unending landscape of his apartment

                mind dissolving even as it begins to perceive it's own brilliance

           (it's all falling into place)

              a diaphanous mote refracts light across the universal exhale of the post-rain lush
           (and is gone)

Riot in Bedrock

screaming skull

as consciousness is harnessed to flesh

full moon

Yours To Recall