Even the invisible dogma is bullshit.

Fronds sinew in the free air,

clouds are merciless, ferns and fecal

deer marks, the yield of clay

multiplying in error, a steel wall.

I built myself a new soul

and already it's corroded

the bitches of mercy

have left me here

dramatic masks adorn

the faces of kinetic water

panes of clay with electronic antlers

broadcasting all the glories of the damned

to the vortex of an empty room.

The beautiful spawn of hate

with all its ornate detail

ravishing the suffocating world

of law and order

giving gray flesh pink lungs

ink tipped porcupine spines

protruding from the veil of flesh

fangs closing like a ribcage

around a sullen fecal heart

bones tap dancing

on a cement swollen piano lid

top hat gone with tortured breezes

provoked into an erratic storm

planetary rings of painted fingernails

swirling from its ashen fart.

The hot green trees

and the half moon

my bored blood thinking of

disappearing branches

metallic inlets where the river eats

stacked dinner plates

like slime on a slab of thin mints

these benches are spectral bones

the edges of dark waters

are lapping at ancient ground

like a stabbed tongue in a ring of oil

I am the guardian of ways

that no longer exist.

I no longer pretend

to be an angel

or a demon.  

My life has taken on

the contours of a man.

It's not enough: it doesn't

need to be.  In the shells

of our mortality

some resonance

still persists.

And it surfaces

on waves of flowerets

somewhere beyond

comprehension.

These rulers, these

sweet and blinded faces,

all are void in potential eternity,

sent evaporating through

the sculpted fossils

where the masks are

wan and lean:

and only the grave is green.

The stars are hard and cold

in orbs of self destroying light

I'm everybody's prisoner and nobody's son

I have no companions and I yield to nothing

the escapes are razor thin but infinitely deep

they shine through the cracks in everything

betrayed by flowers and concrete

to the soundless banks

of another bleached world

come feel me twilight

cast your cutting shadows

into my mindless skin

cardboard trunks are crashing

into the soundstage scenery

let's sing while we kill each other

with sightless apathy

let's carve out a metal cap

with flashing forcefields

in the wound that sleeps and sleeps.

Into the decaying belly

I drive beauty as a spike with sparks

to burn away the flakes

of long diseased organs

in loving, sublime incineration

where lonely pillars

shiver into gold.

Quiet paths made secret

by rushing rivers

nude runs that ended

under a deep black rainbow

feet scratched by jagged roots

faces stained by the half-grilled

ribcage of the sun.

Can you hear the purple sound

 of the pouring

the pouring of alchemical branches

from the sifted heart of man

can you hear the pouring

of a thousand resurrected things

gushing into existence

with a raving roar.