dry sleeping eyes

Dry dock,

on four knees to

the crippled wood —

fractured,

crumbling under

the history of idols.

Prosaic fathers who,

once left,

have returned

in the essence of this

breaking childhood.

Sleep,

the kissing exhausted.
Shaking remnants
of violet aura.
A hum vibration

from the back of the skull —

submerged.

Awaiting the ache,

disturbed only

by the gaping wet.

The curves of a

black demi-god.

Engulfed by dense silence.

The weight sick,

pinning chest to spine,

lead filling lungs.

And the chakra — golden,

faded, losing resolution.

Suffocating

without death.

Eyes,

leaking blue.

The rain leaving,

bitumen dark ocean

holding four feet,

naked and blind.

A luminescence from above —

within reach.

As a million bleed,

orgasms screaming

at the burning sky.

The final desire —

forgotten.

The warm hands leading home.