fast-heartbeatingly amazed
at all the flavors of pain--
a certain sorrow tastes like peaches,
you discover that everything you are
vibrates in lightdance upon
a mirror held too close to the soul,
shame feels like red,

those formulas aren't working anymore,

ache-pausingly eternal
while taking this one blink--
the light and dark cause it all onscreen,
you intuit that everything you want
waits upon a shelf beside
the paper zoetrope,
how many Nows in a moment...

that feeling isn't going anywhere.