I’m a doomed runner/ chasing murk-rings/
with soles of zest/ fuelled by flesh-wand/
orchestrating slobber/ of filth/ I’m a doomed/
runner/ doping on pills of peril/ my belly/
a jarring junkyard/ my head/ a jazz of jargons/
I’ve shrivelled/ into puddle/ pounded/
my bones/ into biomes I don’t belong/
jettisoned the spirit-spin/ at the junction/
of the salacious/ and self-adulation/ cast/
my belief like an estuary/ into encroaching/
immolation/ a wayward waltz/ an effigy/
of erroneous etude/ of marshland arias/
of cataracts of cranium-crushing chords/
how does/ a body shrink/ from hymnody/
of sanctum/ to heath of sacrilege/ what’s/
the bequest of a thing/ that grovels/ to a race/
of rancour and rage/ running/ and running/
in cycles of anti-aureoles/ where does a body/
go when it banishes itself from the light/
when/ it/ banishes/ itself/ from/ the/ light/
a finish line/ of flaming firmaments/
an illimitable void/ of draconian flogging/
whiplashes after whiplashes as wages/
o Lord/ resuscitate me/ from these/
crunching collars/ and realign my bones/
into angles where the light can/
permeate them without ache/