Pseudopsychosis.

I broke away

from the ocean,

in through our eyes,

the waves at high tides,

the roccia parts and splits

where Moses split the Red Sea.

In the womb

of wind,

          limbs and bones

outline the fading star,

     and the world seemed to drown

in yellow velleities

of loneliness.

Eyes to the dream, an echo, a bang

     in aqueous shivers, bled out

in darkness passed,

     dream from dream

godly fields

     of life then lassitude

of the shunt of death.

Father listens to what I read,

     Noveau waves in homemade poetry;

It is of strife,

and leaves of dark

     which drown my words

in place of madness

and stillness;

a memory in a loop

elapsed

     into loneliness.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.