Corvus Breakdown

there’s no face appearing in the window as I stare through the whiskyfalls of the sun made of cucumbers that ticks in my sternum like a deathwatch so where’s my sagacity? – – lost somewhere in the pink furry mirrors hearkening ill, weirdly and sinister baffled from holding itself a hostage running wild in the power sockets the same inside out in the eye sockets crying out loud from the acient books of lamentations and corvus breakdowns