Light That Haunts Shadows

I think it was
gallons of harmonics, shifting the air,
or seeing deep anxiety, superficial
aching stains of neon perfection,
(in my attempt to comprehend the
consequence, the product of crafted
matter between your eyes) that furthered

this snaking weightlessness


the apricot ivy of fingers, toes tapping,
bridging the plasma of feelings desensitized
by the slaving man's owner, Realism--
joyful concept treasures, disintegrating
in acid rain, wonders that die before
the first fall of winter, the little things
in you that button up tight when the right
pair of eyes trickle with light
that haunts shadows,

all that's deemed strange, useless,

in a boy's mechanical

Universe.