writing on the wall

under a film of night
                          surrounded by amber bottles
the pieces of moist acid glass
                        licked each other melted and trembled
twisted
                        arms and legs affecting against
the walls like the wings of moths beating themselves against
                        a mesh screen
                        instruments meant for flight chained by the misgivings and idiocy of the
rituals which link themselves to each other
                        i want to fly from here, the kiss said
                                                giving meaning to something vacant
                        and hollow
under the pretense of need
                        apparent and indifferent
i have only guesses
                        at insight
                                      but i'm busy assigning hope to
flat stomachs
                        and things which are, in essence
                        capricious and unpredictable