VII. VIOLET RECEPTORS

---

The other day began with the sensation of  

Eating thread again; but sudden question sings 

Of how former the moment deforming a motive in a  

Picture of splinters painted – the present 

Moon could always cradle but always with a sting. 

Such solemn streaks of endeavour would encompass taste if the 

Family frame bore me to evaporate 

Like each ripped wing; human-made, gripping change of state 

With same trauma attempting to thrive to dissociate 

And we triggered days without receptors; 

Carcass upon carcass, new fragrance of orchids 

Looming in the background yet begrudgingly serene, 

Complete yet gone – a stigma of our words instead 

How surprising it became to discover a violet core 

And particles I once claimed simply physical did twitch; 

The mist was mine while five seasons of 

Tomorrow drowned today - perhaps it seemed that 

There was water under the bridge