maybe this is how it'll be.

left ventricle cobalt flames

compacted by the

crushing pressures of

a forever contracting heart

forever thumping

ever-blackberry blood

rushing color to those

honey-maple irises

as they shut themselves from

those quarter til midnight

whizzing outlet malls,

bokeh-ed headlights,

and streaking fastfood neon

because every clavicle has

the same deepened valleys

and eroded crevices

to dampen those

i-oneten potholes and

diesel rumbles as the rest

of the angels in the city surround

are drowsily dazed, signified by

a grid of rural orange streetlights

dotting the outlands

and rolling horizon hills

flickering as if in unison

with the slow heaving tides of

saturday night breaths

it's an electron sea of throbbing hearts,

glanced away by a dozing soul

ever-effusing blackening blood.