Poetry Practice 1

Another practice. Also rather terrible, sorry.

there are moments when

in the early morning, i say goodbye

to the moon, and her soft brushes

and let the sun’s rough kisses burn my skin so

that the blood in my veins boils and bursts through

into an incandescence that beats - hums

ba-dum ba-dum

ba-dum

in my chest and in my lungs

and the blood in my head explodes at once

and sails through the unkempt skies of my brains

and the rush comes like golden fire

and the burning, the burning, the burning.