Dreams Noxious Delights
Swift Essay in Surrealism

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash
I sit trying to begin, delete my words, try again.
Seeking something to unlock my dark, gilded passion. Lost, lost. My lament, my dream of noxious delights, found at the bottom of a bloated body bag.
My nightmares die, their hollow bellies
The ears, watch for the ears, they hear what eyes do not feel.
An epitaph: Calamitous Sensuality!