the sky is a blue blooded royal
a yellow lettered peasant
and the clouds are subjects and rulers
in within a fresco of impatience
matted by the elixirs of colours
in the deepest parts of ourselves
where those truer chemicals flow
do we betray truth
by espousing hormonal calamity?
▬ calamitous in righteous?
▬ converting “fictions strangers than truth” ? ▬ to do erasure to the thing painful?
▬ the heart wears a royal bondage
▬ fractured by a humble house
if monster’s human
and human monster
can the voyage be
both pairs we wore
even the blind is paired
and so the hurt who loses limbs and hearing
and the ribcage is of two
the tongue singular
yet with the teeth
why does the horizon exist?
or the ocean?
land meeting water
water meeting land
I had drank water with dolphins
and saw that I could race with birds
now I am on an oasis on the sea
a boulder to call my own…▬