Your anger is like fire
consuming magnitudes of happiness,
so that budding mountains
deflate into each other directly
as waves embrace the ocean…
surveying everyone outside of your melancholy spirit,
their vivacious outlook
remodeled as an emaciated buildings
and dominated until they are acceptable.

You are a cloud trapped inside my skull,
an ink stain
I see in paginated thoughts,
obsidian as a solar eclipse…
indelible as the progression of time
ticking in clear wall mounted spheres.