In Corners

Disintegrating into tiny molecules
Apodictic stack of liquidized oxygen,
I watch the flame of burning candle,
Watching myself tremble and shake
With its every movement, counting the segments
Of my heart

Palliating toothpick sticks to my deep slumber,
Waking me up to sustenance,
Waking me up to these painted walls.
I am made of church bells, with each strike
I am conscious, murmuring to the chords and veins,

having the atmosphere in my mouth
Outer horizons of Cerebrum are perhaps a mystery yet,
I struggle each day to listen to the whistles and puzzles
Rupturing beneath this thin membrane,
Floating still in congruence with anxiety.

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©My Valiant Soul