sweat

it’s hot tonight
as surreal little fans
continue to churn
their obsolete momentum
my old gold cat
is licking the sweat
off my salty skin
as i sit here
at my disorganized desk
wondering what will come next

visions of sacred sins
settle in
a soft and crazy unison
of green, yellow and black
i thank the gods
for this humid reprieve
and with a touch of
harsh white tequila
a tiny flame
balances these unsteady hands

earlier i was
one with the rain
and the steady rhythm of crickets
now i am one
with a drunken finger song

i usually write in the morning
but sometimes
the night
is just right
for hollow hallucinations
as lonely travelers
seek lavender dreams
and hollow lungs inhale
sweet and sour ambition

and as always
this black and white kitten watches me
with passive and indifferent judgment
as i entwine time
and attempt to compose
another divine and decomposed line

words of reason
reduce me to naked treason
as the piano stretches towards a crescendo
of delicate and complicated excess
beethoven is my savior
the chorus remembers patterns
of rhythmic ecstasy
and immaculate tones
carry me toward an uneasy sleep

457-sweat

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