black breeze

rope-dagger magical deuce! look!!

look at those sky-ripped highs:  hear-see

the ripped sky tumble its crazy-full fists


down, then up

then up so-high-enough the fall

will kill me.

Didn’t the last 3 deranged endangering rages

find myself finding myself dangling

out a window?

I don’t have the guts?

but the guts are in the gang

I split to where up

peaks so deeply

it soars back up, soars black

up to force me, fake me—to make me