Poseidon’s poised on a precipice,
Languishing lost in
Moments of melancholic malaise.

Craving numbing night,
filled with deeper darkness,
Self-indulgently succumbs to

Soporific Laudanum-like liquid-
Purgatory-pummelled merriment,
Languidly dowsing spirit.
It reeks of putrid powerlessness
Yet, repulsed by broken bridges to freedom,

An impulse to extricate.
Allows thoughts to settle,
Words tumble forth-
Moving pieces, sorting senses,
By a glimmer of Apollo’s light, Combining motes of inspiration into life.