Manic

egg-laden heart,
each pump breaks a shell,
my body raucous
with the vim of fledglings—
i can't fathom or organize
their bleats; they puke out phrases
crude and scattershot;
they frenchkiss like amoebas,
copulating, birthing a slurry
of prattle, churning
in gabby veins.

nothing can slake
the fluid jabberwocky;
my brain twitches
like a crushed sitar's strings—
the allegro headlong, tinnier,
rising to aggravate;
does anyone see the bedlam
in my jugular?
are my pupils spasming
like vibrios?
my headache can't fatten
quick enough, like a petri dish
hellbent to balloon—
zillions of tadpoles, chicks and midges
paint an image of god
i don't want to see—
someone rip it out,
this frantic canvas of dots
before it uncouples my mind.



Letters Break Off From Words And Attack

hatchets, scimitars,
inky pitchforks
jab him, frenzied refugees
from cages of meaning and sound.

while sleep holds him down
they mutilate
the underbelly of his eyes;
when he tries to think,
they swarm the puzzle
of his wounded, failing
cerebrations.

he can feel them breeding,
parthenogenetic flecks,
billions of black angles
pregnant in every neuron.

their jaggedness
interlocks into streams,
pours out the ruts of his mouth,
gushes from eight pens
clasped by the sides
of his fingers.

the more he scrawls
the faster they come,
a plethora that ruptures,
hopelessly mucky—

yet bullying him, until
he's more artist than writer,
the demons on his canvases
composed of fussy stings.