Hinder

...and I am asleep

with euphoric visions

clutching at the cloth.

Reaching for my bed

with vile flares

in the mosaic of my froth.

...and I am awake

with Adonis flattering

Aphroditian runes

(in the heart of June).

Where a moment staggers

and plagues a mind with

challenges void amid

the rising dunes

(where no purpose blooms).

...and I am alive

with harbors prompting suicide;

unknown and astray

yet familiar somehow,

someway.

...and I am dead

with solace flowing

gently as the rice creek.

Standing colorless

and naught shines

brightly as the meek

yet I am gray and crashed

on the furrowed bleak.

When the couplets mend

in glorious dawns of fiery prose,

then the songs are knotted with love

like angels dancing in my doze.