I haven’t stopped laughing
despite the decline. Tell me
I’m mine to disperse with
at the leisure of the willing night.
Generalized hurts move drastically
through cracks in the psyche.
Nothing right or stable about that,
nor is there much left to see
within the kaleidoscopic rains
pummeling the block.
The few instants where a solid shock
would improve the sanguine temper
of the moment have long since fluttered.
Mutterings about the spiritual
assume a clear shape
as they linger in the inner ear.
No one of us here
is asking to be blessed,
only corrected, polished, and posed.
Always, I keep this prayer
festering inside of my mouth,
swaddled in mourning breath.