Tragic Astral Travel

Will I ever be free?
Trapped in an eyeball and on an elbow.
So prosaic and methodical
Heads will roll
And in them are trapped those orbs
Revolution in theory
Stuck in a landmine victory
When the door closes after bitterness
The nicety is lost in space
Holding stars in my hands
And the moon between my toes.
Wishful willfulness of heavenly stature
Staring blankly into pitch skies
Broken by a rooftop.
Interest is a many splendoured pain
Too excruciating a loss
To count the idiotic win
To kill the unborn
To speak of unkeepable promises
To dream in silent voids
To break inescapable connections
To live in ego
To die in grief.
Circles, after circles, after circles.