Holiday

[Guest Shiva H. Vishnu]

in observation of my spiritual caste

i slaughter the day at the alter of waste

i bludgeon the hours with the buzzing of taste

and baptise me in stupor, quite cautiously paced

 

my ignoble clay pot of a soul, set in jade

in your ill fated honor i hold a parade

with masked marching miscreants festively flayed

until, drunk with submission, apologies brayed

 

holy light, push your hands through the pores of this screen

bleeding hope into knowledge of saviors unseen

steal a space for my eyes in an ocean of green

breathe your mist through the cogs of this broken machine