Barometry of the Ego

So much gas escapes
My sinuses open
Like the wet marsh air
Of Newarktown night

I'm returned to my body
The dreams of late
Haven't been anything
But consecutive nightmares

So then, where am I?
That feeling in the morning
If I were to ever get
Sleep at night

That feeling of certainty
I knew it in Crown Heights
I was me; who I am
I am real; this is immense

Kill me?  Like Geronimo
Bullets can not do it
Unless propelled by
Greater forces than gas

The old way; the first way
Hard as hell to keep
Faith mocked, even cursed
Left alone with a sick heart

The beauty comes when
The barometer drops
And the blood is rich
With laughter and gold.