Flecks of reflective electric confetti

Open lungs, like a dragons wings,
send me falling endlessly into the wind
and fire. I dream backwards, I wake up naked.
Eventual mirror swivels vacillate,
exposing massive expanses of elaborate
blackness, speckled with
flecks of reflective electric confetti.
In contrast, the sweltering seascape splashes
it's fantastical weaving of temperature
and tension. Golden hairs sprout sanguine
and celebratory. Underneath the dense damp
dirt clusters, frothing with anticipation,
a tunnel delves, inside a shadowed corner.
Dipping fingertips in liquid glass,
reinventing lust and longing, antlers pour up
and out the furniture. A delicate twist
pulls an entire body up out of the clutching
grasp of death. We are ongoing, immortal.
Cold nights fill and overflow with the warmth
of this gesture. Our agony is a portal,
a language. I invite excruciation. I derive
a flaming bird, uplifting from the turbulent
surface. I swoon into endless spirals.
I resume fluid tuneless movements
through the fragmented
fields of this accidental existence.