Unroofed, my heart's arrhythmic and target
Encircled. The clouds are rotten, plaster things
Crumbling a grey mist, fingered. Up I drift
Past all the copters - the sects surveilling

My sense for rent. Parallax, a reversed
Me unfolds: Prison Street sounds. I'm wailing
Free, as the fist clacks down my spine: a cursed
Stick jangling down the harp iron railings -

Bone bare nerves. I'm shaking viscerally
In Eyeball park. Through the heart, a threaded cord
Is yanked by stares. Heads jolt. Panic. I flee
Home, to close my coffin lid. Mind part-stored,

Nailed shut, and styptic. Years in seconds spent
In pasts. The future's static: document.