Cinder blocks elevate in an obsolete breeze
powder puffs of pink videotape the masses.

Lemon-lime apples tart & sweet,
my fever rages on, hot with need.

Tides permeate the lower grasslands,
neon spectacles of fright

and immense longing,
reeled in one antelope at a time.

Who is
What is
Where is
God?

Why and When?

Not to mention How…