The flesh of dancing bones

distinguished by fire

finds a colorful cranny to die in

places organs that sing

on a counter-harmonic altar

and with a grin torn into the heart

falls down like a dead sex organ

into the infertile abyss.

Mountains cracked by steam

and reeking lava

fleeced of trees

and the flight of the living

invite the attachment

of Martian forests

amphibian eyes of cruel

elongated giants

grafted serpents

and the baby shit

of dying angels

wax teeth of encrusted books.

If one should turn with gentle eyes

to sweetly perceive the extent

of the homogenous terror

that one will be wasted away

not by a bomb or a crucifix

not by a series of guns

or a tightening noose

but by the limpness

of a sleeping herd.

To harden against it is to break

to surrender is to be suffocated

the way to ascension is blocked

by divine stupidity

this is the wrong world

and you are the wrong rebel

might as well eat tar in flake form

for breakfast cereal

might as well drink reptilian milk

for gasoline.