The world was sinking within my heart.
I burst out of its pastures.
The hoarse sound of fermenting air
dense with parched lips
blew fireflies on its easel
a high pitched tune
striking a thicket of stars
I lost my ability to recognize the shapes
of the thoughts sprinting in front.
The screen on which I used to gaze
was a whirl of frames gushing non-stop.
The sound of the spinning reel within the husk of solitude
pulverized a stillness so deep
that I forgot to choose and dapple
at the waters of the flux
swelling and shrinking
in which within its bosom
a red streak
my soul bed.
© Malintha Perera 2014