Collapse

The man lies sick with a knotted chest,
wishing dearly he could burst into
a violent explosion of sticky-notes
or a silent collapse of honey-like syrup, viscous
some bang of gunpowdered jelly,
a more-massive-than-thou slow-motion splash-
constituent fingered droplet-flowers spreading,
a satisfying crash, then draining sleepily into pavement
somehow quenching the thirst of
something greater than him, not him,
- fooom! splash!-
no, not him.