Balloons

The pink of me falls in

with the rusted bolts used for the door
everlasting, crimson, powder
down in the place--
where you relies, you don't 
have to just lay there, so flat
against the floor 
That's when the mercury rises
yanking you ten stories out of the dust
surrounding you, throbbing--
life blood and warm baptismal water
erotic in the first genital sizzle
a candle that rips flesh off the bone
and sends you under
in twisted lightheaded fury
that wants you to reach further
who wouldn't--
even as you tumble, pinholes
that take over, beams
through a night sky and then to swim
into the floating of an ever fading blue
to become the lone violet, persistent

in yellow, purple, and green

How do you know yourself

with it growing, wild inside

when do you begin with it gone

Everything is just an agony, in part

happy and ready to collapse