Splinters Left In Mind

By the time I saw a feller for the trees the lumberjacks had moved in and cut me in half A piece of me here shards there still nothing of substance remained so I trapped the wind into my apathy, and bore titanic gusts throwing four seas into eight deserts till buried in the earth but raising to move mountains aside I vomit ash and sing with a spray crusts were broken in communion with cicadas, the sacrament burned my lips to the mantle and the word was all mighty until it became a mantra for an obsession of the insane drinking poisoned truths till petals of yellow fall on the grass in the confusion of seven — if any vision or dream burns too bright shadows pale the heart and the rot draws flies