twist

paging through my notebook, found this scrawled across two pages, almost illegible: View of St. John’s Gospel from the bridgeEcstatic, a chalk drawing in the rainIt’s girders blurring through, gridded,Meticulous, a pastoral of right anglesSquares, their corners bolted and fusedWith blistering layers of paintEach a new shade of dust, likeShadows in a darkened room, Absorbing light with differing appetites.Squares, standing monuments to symmetryAmidst the chaos of color smoldering,The crayola visions of deprivation, Of base desires ignored: sleep, food,Sex, company; release deferredSacrificed to the theoretical sublimeThe tingling ecstasy of the body’s hollowDesperation, visions—the sun sets,As it does everyday, and the sun risesTrans-substantiated by hunger and thirstInto perfect symmetry, The cacophony of pain—aches bruises regretsDisappointments---giving way to squares and Silence. dunno when i wrote it or why, it's atleast mostly gibberish. but i sort of like it, it's got scattershot charm. i think....maybe i'm just tired. judgement impaired. or something