Gravity Deleting Siren
Can I – shining –
reach for it,
dot remembrance with glitter
& color, pliable
as unfenced land. The crush,
of hands. I live
& die
by the flamey
shapes of them: Enigma
in the darks of the car, shifting the wrong
hand. Oh, bloated
delirium. I hope
to patrol my expression
In a matrix of levers & knobs, but
cannot swallow the twisted street:
![](https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/27bfa43f5581e91ebb7d52455237e2f161857b8222df4da9acbcabb9365b4678/Annulet-Squiggle.gif)