Anime Partus

In an instant we were born,
came to being with a spasm.
How far did we travel, beyond
the gates of whatever is outside our eyes -
the eternal doors of perception.
How long were we in the womb,
away from maggots and atomic wastelands,
and what did we experience?

We crawl against the clouds of our births
and pull the angry sky into our hands,
trying to find Jesus.  Light retreats
from the spilled sun, away from us,
below oak tree roots, pagodas
and into the graves of our minds.

Here we are on the other side of the universe,
somewhere between eternity and infinity
and caught within the walls
of our skulls, as reality's megrim
cleaves us, an engine of our
mutilation.  The colorless sea is screaming
and the sky is heaving in anguish

and maybe we'll die

et

  cetera

iwoulddieforthesun

 

What is idealization, seeing real
and imagined disturbances,

There a reason we are here, a reason
we dwell in a hellish world instead
of a heavenly monastery, where we
crawl against fate
and
sin in debris
while we drink saliva and
pretend we're god
to pull fluttering men from stone
and watch them spray

scarlet blood

maybe                      god will
            saveus

maybe he'll paint SUNSETS
over our eyes
and take the chemicals away
from our souls

but
what's ecstasy?

Who are we, in
a dark box of fear and death
waking life to touch the corporeal
  specter


that screamsandhisses
                      {screech}

OUT!  OUT DAMNED VULTURE!

Death spits flesh into our eyes,
stinging
and we
      wander waywardly


at angles to the edge
    of the clock.

ti
ck
  to
  ck

    rememberrememberthefifthofnovember

another year has gone by
and we're all closer to dying,
and farther from understanding
the ways of GOD.

but preachers tell us
what we need to believe
while they gargle salt
licked from Jesus's scabs
and pretend that
little boys keep them
CELIBATE
we're not supposed to know

and we're supposed to
hug the black sky,
twittering and numb

Breed
with glass, in
mirrors of our self annihilation

where we
crawl to discover horrors
buried under our black finger nails,

and to read hieroglyphics inscribed onto
clocks that tell the
motion towards

our catacomb. Dredge the brain
from its liquid.
Burnout.