Vulcan

The storm in the snow globe,
Or the way you look away
Vulnerable fleetingly,
His voice.
Parading down the aisles,
A blitz behind me,
The times of neo-catholicism
To bear for us a cross.
That one time.
I looked, I saw nothing,
He was the best, the bombay freaks,
The girls, the way I don't see you,
We sift.
Flyers pirouette,
A hail of dragon scales, and roofs,
Like the chinese new year was upon us.
Strong days, hoofs, on,
And they never really stop.

My dankest cellar,
Eaten by mice, the soft ones,
Unlocked, then and still your box,
That, your arrogance,
And the way I always heard it,
Eyes yellow for midnight runners and
The depths of the widening alley.
Yellow, ochre,
Yonder skies
I painted. Coloured in aeons
The way I like it, don't watch canaries
Of the island fly, evermore.