Vespertine Hours (Poem)

I awoke as the day rose with no dawn.
She looked like she would have a cumulonimbus smile and release
raindrop laughter.
The sky appeared terrified of itself,
shuddering in terror at the clash between
Machine and morning irrevocably melded.
Lashing out with speed,
I raced her to a horizon that wept endless miles into my path at a volume that thundered its way into my brain.
Her smile split and sliced my dawn,
With white forks spiking their way down gray ladders and smashing their way into damp fields of peat meters to my side.
Me, a challenger? I think not.
Her lucid laughter dripped into my boots,
Down my neck and coiled itself between my legs,
Where it pooled in a lustful circle awaiting release.
Standing underneath a concrete umbrella,
I grew tiny at a dizzying speed,
Laughing at my own adventure into loss,
Releasing myself to a day with a suffocating wind.

Miles later I fell asleep to a dream
In which I patched broken souls with a whisper
And penetrated different skies with a tantivy punch.
No stranger to the torture of dreamworld
I shook my vision to the rataplan on my visor
And accelerated into vespertine hours.