Washing guilt by guilt,
my psyche fades...
*
I stare.
I daze.
You fly so high,
wind pours over you.
Descent,
ascent,
and andante restorations.
You circle the fiery disc
in circles aiming toward the center.
As my mind swoon,
and tears evaporate,
the smell of burning retinas
stains all the dreams.
*
For all the noise,
tensions,
and cruel winds,
I bear guilt.
Deaf, blind, and mute,
washing guilt by guilt.