Alongside V

Born in the realization of the wanting,
in the lack, in that gravitational wasteland,
the dark star, of the anti-what's the matter,
of the pent-up emotion, in the rays of moithering,
the inescapable reality of the day being night
closed to the cheerful appetite of the crowds
for chocolate and substitute, the artificial
tastes of the physics of the upset apple cart
there I go, orbiting the thought, round and round
chasing the what used to be, as if it were present
to me, then the repeated news, like a war rerun
the soldiers march and are blasted, then march
and are blasted, the heart a muscle of melancholy
pumped love around once, now it has metaphorically
packed in, rusted in the oxidization of the past
when the bed was a world shared in the body
now I feel, the song of the skylark has crashed
to earth, its bird tune, splintered into the shriek
of the complaint, is it happening to me, then I
stop, the universe of comparison and syntax
becomes the absurd and the disordered, from
entropy the hot goes to the cold, the young to old,
then the myth peters out too, I am left to the dark.