Last Sips

Yoga, sunsets, meditation, anxiety, development

Temper reddened blood rushes

to furrowed forehead wrinkles,

deepening canyons sink to muscle,

symptoms of sky and golden heat

stretch like green straightened sunlight

into sulfurous iris stinking of stale sight.

 

Share my open palm with lifelines curving

back away to drowned deluded pasts

like swerving vertebras have hope

of disc alignment infinite against gravity,

collapsed and forced against grounds,

surpassed rocks saturated to sand.

 

Molded earthy clay shapes like swimming bones

bending toward mirrored back walls

reflecting what is not missing,

not accomplishment but peaceful consciousness

licks loose liars from my lower spinal’s chord,

losing lovers left to right.

 

Shortened days shrink my time left,

burning orange dusted like drips of dry sky saliva

along horizons, our sun sets alarms for sleeping

and tastes last sips of earthy toned colors

blurring brilliance toward my greening eyes,

absorbed through lonely sickness.

 

Nauseas aches of empty fulfillment spin like black new moons

within weathered selfish worth of which I see no new lines

to lead into a joyous portrait or some loving sorts of existences,

filtered through my memory like rushed water

filters through faulty bricks of concrete, cracking sporadically

hang nails dug into scales of skin cells.

 

Judgment calls fulfilled to sordid scours of humility

could in time see success in progress and turn our dark pupils

to dully shriek or dilate like tripped shrinking green color in eyes

toppled and hovered as landing pads dusted by windows

spin through social perception and reject concrete towers,

human productions of frightened insincerity.