Ever Rotating Sky

Tapping and tisking in the corner
Slowly cooking in the softness
To have glued my hand in place
Slap my body into true definition
A fire turns inside my guts
And my face screws up in delight...
The violation of your body
The pieces they fall into the holes
Flakes of skin in my mouth
Petals trodden into the carpet
Like, the ever-rotating sky
This sentiment carries no weight...
To have felt the depths of life
And the drowning shallows of death
The storm of the half-sleep
The half-sleeping storm
Out of the blackness of incompletion
Into the politics of inconsequence