Unhinged

with all your doom you murk the under-dark
of your insipid calamity
caroling the bells of a unique chapel
in the bleak felspar afternoon sun
chiseled from a monolith
of brooding star foam
and jaundiced
tangerines.

with all your dust 
you anoint the desolation 
of your contemptible
menagerie of free range
left handed oysters
with teeth
and all the sunken eyes
of a drunken leviathan
howling in a marsh
of aggravated 
slumber

where the tune 
of a misfit
is perfect. 

all the time.