Venice, Grand canal

I am restless,

Unable to think straight,

Or quantify my emotional output.

My head is full of glass,

Or buds of cotton;

Unsure of the viscosity of life

To which it should align.

What frequency to tune into

Without those neural connections

To illuminate a path with their neon certainty.


Streaks of yellow pain

And dullest thunder clench my back,

Cause my neck and spine to scream purple rage,

As I bend and twist,

And try to calm my aggravated,

Agile heart; and transcend my

Physical state to a more

Agreeable, supernal mode of transport.

One that carries me forward

On a cloud of nines,

Where the rain ever falls beneath me,

And the sun warms

The vapour of my aching form,

Releasing it back into the


2 thoughts on “Restless

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