So, there with an elixir
Made of all that couldn’t mix
A vial full of colors so bereft of any picture
That I’d painted or beheld
Or in dependency compelled
To be liniment was nothing but a fix

And shaking it to cause it to appear
As though it could combine all the opaque and all the clear
To merge into a serum that my blood could thus adhere
But by the time the needle drew single, solitary drop the mixture that should be would disappear

By slowest calculation
Of the many moving parts
Constituent ingredients
Arranged by separation
Like the chambers and the valves of any heart
They offered no obedience
Within the circulation
Of the sanguinary circuits that I tried, but couldn’t chart

So passing any passiveness of pointed introspection
And seeing in a mirror made of mercury, reflections
That made me wonder why I cared to prove a safe connection
When in truth it wasn’t truth that I was hoping to behold from the injection