the blindness in this future finds me
soft with blissful content and
anxious mystery,
sinking lively into this puddle saturated
with a sunset reflection and
infatuation.
i am rising
with the smoke from my lips
into the ceiling
scattered with stars in rich tones of midnight.
come sit at this table
drinking tea steaming and curling
around the heads of the infidels
that pour it dainty into my cup.
this diagonal line
whispers lonliness to the walls
wishing that the blankets were bodies
to fill the empty space
where you should have been instead.
don't believe
in the mad-hatter account of the moonlight
because oblivion is so
much
more
vast.