Delirium and Spiders

Tonight, red. Twirling, burning red,

Fork of dreams, carry me along,

Tonight, the red. It speaks. It speaks.

Everything, every limp wick, it bounces up,

Irons it's kink, tonight, everything. And 

Nothing, maybe at all, maybe ever.

It runs. Like desert sand beneath

The palpitation of hot-blooded animal

Paws. Like reality, it downpours

Into unzipped DNA coats, delirium

And spiders. It continues within the grave

Of the mind, with the jester's ashes in fits.

I remember it well, recall it hard enough

To wonder what case I'm living. Acquitted of

The Amendment, I straddle forth on my desired

Horse, it's muzzle a pit for cigarette buts. 

It tries to chuck, chuck me off, but I am not

Governed, governess. I am dead. I am the last one.