goes up in smoke

without fire.

sublimation at it’s finest,

no residue.

finds a way in again,

it always does

for energy transmutes

and the cup just got a lot bigger.

quarter filled now

when overflowing used to

be the norm.

grapple the devil by it’s horns,

the devil laughs and scoffs,

i am no bull!

a shapeshifter, a time warp, a memory loss

and i grasped the angel tight –

then found the scent familiar,

a goat whose braying i could still hear.

windows in my prison cell,

stained glasses like my tainted perception

i moan at my chains,

my arms struggle fruitlessly

… … the jailor enters and hands me the

poison apple.

it looked like any other apple,

a man has to eat, another bite, another chew

then

the old familiar scoff from a memory,

it came somewhere in the corner.

where are you?

i cried out.

yank the chains, that familiar did,

and i moved like a puppet, which i guess i was

one

then smoke filled the prison cell,

cough, cough, a fit

the jailor had ran away –

chaos!

a scoff, a sneer, though this time it sounded

nervous:

i receded, i vaporized, i became smoke

without residue.

twisted perceptions, strange roads, false labels

but the scent is always the same

when an old familiar beckons to jailors

and windows casting a view.

the view, the outlook, the possibilities

while chains slipped invisibly

once again – they always come back

when i sneered, scoffed,

it was the same echo –

from memories buried deep into time.