Requisite

Review. Reassess. Recalibrate. 
Re-imagining the shape of
the molecules that make up
my mess and my madness.
That I might be made legible
to the most unseeing eye, 
the most straight and narrow
soul yearning for a stretching
of crooked bones. Unwind
from the compression. Burst
into a million tiny bits of
star dust and delusion. What 
is being sane in an asylum
of mind-altering echoes meant 
to grind the strongest matter
into a powder of deceit? 
God is still inhaling, yet
they try to collapse their
lungs, afraid
of too much space between
a solid somebody and
a peculiar hell. But the spirit
has already been hummed
and strummed, cooed and
clued into air currents, carried
to the deafest ear, 
streaming between the 
tiniest cracks of joint and
ligament. We will connect
beyond a paradise of some 
patriarch’s making,
build new atoms.