Muses Undulate, Something Is Calling


The touch of my needle against the crackled skin, I push into
the sonic absence and come right through.
Your ears are melting away on the sides of your motionless face
as the entire point is made clear.

with a beat that guilt would regret, like a pocket full of change
and cigarette butts covered in dust.

Two dragonflies made love before my sight: I am the blessed
truth, I am the means and the end.
Every tiny molecule of momentary solace
is replaced with the pitch of my desire.