my eyes were clicking

so much sings within me, but on broken legs and flickering and hung from a clock, bloated and coursing and measured and still. there is vinegar—my tongue?—skies thumping, purple-into-orange-into-green, a strong love that might bruise, an acceptance i slowly keep. i am licking street graffiti and following the dusk chiming with a pinball glow, brilliance. i fell heavily on his lisp and wanted to hold his bones all thrown as dinosaurs and might of days. i pulled at her string, the spill of words knitting to my disease, trapped her eyes on my snaking light. but there is a path here only i divine, this soil in my blood, rush of daybreak, wanderlust scraping at my bird skin.