Firm rope landing
On angels of darkness
Wing is stroking
Last sunset drunkness

Finger one
Thumb above
Happiness is space
For spilt transcendence menace

Growing from the air
Stars are chaos felt
Flying like ravens
Menace is a heir

Of firm ropes floating
Angel is a letter
Movement oscillating
To transcendence the ether

Night is lines

Mutual illness conforming intuition
Of spirit

Laughter
Is darkness playing a rhythm of torment

To the night

Lines are knotted
Hearth is rebirthed

I am a black hole in a tunnel of death
I crawl like a scorpion on the side walls
I am a swirl and a scrap of life
That beats with the oxygen in a tremble bereavement

I am vortex, migraine and nausea
I hit bottom like vine symposia
In the cellar of mash
I burst into insomnia

I breath in cycle utopia