Time

sunlight melts beige into the clouds' eyes
I blink
my fingers fetal pink, swish past
the typeface lips of the book
the dust in my mouth tastes of tombstones
flakes of sand surrounds the sunny horizon
like flies
sucking pale nipples of juice on rotten mangoes in a dumpster
colors elude and osculate it grotesquely
phosphenes in pink, gold, green evaporate from neon to clarity
the pages of the book that I read, perspire
with Lucretia's sorrow, and my eyes stop there as chivalry demands
the black on my nails is patent like boots
the horizon wilts into a butchery of horses:
bars of brown, bars of crimson red, now bars of grey on my book.
like a tender glimmer of gold is the ecstasy of time