(ember whims)

My brain is the drag of gas that spilled a fortune for our grace.

(as last hope assured)

My brain is the shepherd sea, waning.

(when we moved)

My brain is the scar worn in this dreadful sunday light.

(rail again)

My brain is the headlight crash in noble paper streaks.

(best saved)

My brain is the fault in tomorrow's bended offerings.

(kill end list)

My brain is the scribbled left hand holding the last of yesterday's madmen.

(storming echoes)

My brain is what sleeps in the folded eclipse.

(immodest in name)

My brain is warmth of plain enemies.

(our millions)

My brain is what raged at the sounding obituary.

(scene afterthought)

My brain is the concrete spent on knuckles, white and bleeding.

(sum pseudonym)

My brain is the dragon right of angels.

(patsy used to be)

My brain is the dread that builds the other in the fractured lines of spent salvation.

(nail the mouth)

My brain is the schoolyard dust that traced our names in heartshapes.

(head off and down)

My brain is the misplaced majestic.

(if the body dies)

My brain is a lisp posing evidence.

(crystal course)

My brain is the assassin cloaked in daggers, lined with gasoline.

(four on)

My brain is the dusk of dancing fireflies.

(comb her fingers)

My brain is the name repeated in windows (lost) counting unfamiliar streets.

(beat pause beat)

My brain is the amber canon in whose lines i found the youth i'd left beneath the pale of anonymity.

(hold the blades)

My brain is the cast of saturn skin unwravelling.

(ere siren sigh)

My brain is the catastrophe crying our song from the arc of the sun (sets on soft suicide).

(migraine miens)

My brain is the enemy in whose future i arrest these precious ways.

(time it scheme)

My brain is the dahlia dream of rhinestone wrists and pauper rings.

(abating airs)

My brain is the wait we welcome in whims.

(low turns)

My brain is the star where she was born and wise.

(gilded bombs)

My brain is the timely swear that sleeps in corners passing rites and selling passage home (but for the lonely).

(crushing best)

My brain is the chance of men in the small and sparkling hours of our last great discontent.

(fending needles)

My brain is the old sign of hearts marking dawn.