BoredomBreaksA tedious drumNext to a skipped heartbeatI lie, quivering of intentionLooking on out of the wide windows toThe grey, the humdrum of proceeding summerSkipping into fallAn openness invades my chestA black hole widening unto the nerveExposes its quantum mechanismOf intentionWithout purposeNarrow unease pitting in the yellow of the backI guide, purposefully, widen in all directionsIn the belly on the breath