The remnants of my breakfast
resemble the remnants of
my nocturnal glowing chimera.
The yellow streaks left
by the bulls eye (sunny-side up)
were like the broken moonbeams
that spilled through my trembling fingers
over my face, forcing me to confront
my insomnia, my nightmares.
I wake up and stare at the moon.
Corpulent and cavernous,
a trap door in that aerial abyss
with its pale yellow that sucks out
colours from every object it touches
with the steady consistency of
a recurring hallucination.
Sole witness to my
- Jeena Mary Chacko (May 29, 2011)