Night sky slathered on the walls,
A room spinning like a pinwheel in the breeze;
I don’t know why i keep doing this to myself,
Like a bee heavy with honey, dancing one last lament across the ground.
“I no longer hear the lord’s voice”
It whispers, like it ever heard it to begin with.
Sunlight splattered on the window,
Like kerosene or so much stained glass,
Suturing my skull to the ache.