I will take two pills of the Lord
for the rot of my ailing dreams.
Anesthesia for the surgery
of my aged wounds.
Each pulse, a sting to glory.
My tongue will be-
come a confluence of miracles,
again. A coalition
of light. The Laws of gravity shall give
up on me. I, too, will give up
my faith in torturous things—
I wil get well soon. Leave me
in a room with time. I promise,
I will be.
– Flourish Joshua