I’ve had it with despair—
a fun ride for a while
but we’re through.

               There’s always a surface to break—
               something else to break
               through to.

What can I make of my unease
in the world? Something
besides the buzz—

               There is always the eye gleaming
               — the light — the light streams
               the light must go — ?

Cauldron of morning what slips
through your fractures,
the burning mesh?

               That pulse on the air—
               a human voice
               edging in—