a rain cloud plea

nicholas, in your omnibus of prejudice and barcarole, may you devour the sanctity of self. may you dance like a peacock, ruffle your titter dregs, smuggle your soul -like pendulums in bottle trade, whispering a manuscript of ginger queens, and ruby plumes, coquettish and violent, slovenly and chicoried, in marinade of literature, ash and saxophones. in the tonicity of your brain vapors, this is a cry of song, to the anonymity of monsoons, rain metronomes clicking in acid, clouds sputtering and spinning in the cerebral of galaxies, in the dance of vacuum, in the blackness of atoms, ringing and jittering, clicking and muttering, breaking and sticking in the outcry of piccolos, in the ritual of heavens, in frailties of garden weeds, in virulence of phantasm and meter and rhythm of ballet death and swans.

this is an orchestra of carbon and iodine, whimper in the coo-coo of bubble tongue saliva drools, in the religion of nature, in the puppetry of juveniles, in heaves of leaves, and chamomile of wind lamps, tender lips on watercress, like the wishing moth, and polyglots of paragraphs, poetry and statistics. for the Cartesian, nicholas, draw checkers on your tongue and bleed till you rain in serenade and lullabies, chiming to the sway of dandelions, swooshing to the crease of dilly gusts and cripple knots, woven in a cadaver of solipsism, mechanics and automation. the naturalness of self-aureole, grayed in the winds, rumbling in a voice of anxiety, ribbing in surgicals and the intensity of vernaculars, this rain, a lease of homicide and flood knives, apathy in destruction, conspiracy of tears, joyous in paradox, excess in parasites, gnawing at bones and setting free -parapets of synonyms, whipping of rogue maniacs, and agrarians, bellowing in tragedy. in your claw spectacle, in histrionics of a gore libretto, sail back to the soul of darkness and dreams, unaroused, diseased and free.