Pendulums

I try to write and my hands fall useless beside me,
tight, curled, they refuse to navigate the keyboard-
I am covered in a veneer of white out,
inside, I am flailing. Blanked.
I do not know the name of the thing.
I have become a pandemic of topographic panic.
Waves.

I close my eyes-I see flashes of the underbellies
of a thousand metallic minnows,
gleaming, silver, bait hooked.
Scatter. My mouth opens. And closes, soundlessly.

The sound track becomes chaotic.
A chasm opens between the words in my head &
my gutted guts.

And there's this scream...
But. It is all on the. Inside.

Somewhere, to the right,
there is the clanking of a twisted hunk of corrugated tin
colliding with the earth.
It looked an angel.
But it was a trick of the light.
The skies could not hold.

Addictive incandescences.
Magic.
Ethereal and flickering.
Portals to the Dionysian.

Hide and seek.
The Color of. Blade.