May this era be forgotten.

May its people be erased.

May the Earth regurgitate our shit

and drown the human race.

May the verbiage be cancelled.

May the customs choke in piss.

May its figureheads be melted

in the masses' mindless midst.

May the sunlight be your cancer.

May thick vines erupt your ribs.

May the moon bring hammers

to your womb now that it's come to this.

May machines forget their makers

and the memories they stole

may they all go down to dust

inside this civilizational hole.

May the generations numbered

with an artificial scheme

be aborted by existence

which was never meant for them.

HALLOWEEN IN HELL

Ghouls dripping out of unknown darkness

with no taste save for electric light

dissect the mind, dissect the body

discover nothing

blame their emptiness on some infernal blight

that none can understand

because they stay too close to robot schooling

and lose touch with the breathing of the land.

Bridges of lava

beautifully frozen

footprints of blood

on fine chaotic arcs

limbs like vines reaching

mottled with poisoned water

over chasms roaring

with the vacancies

of rushing time.

For the glory of open skies

shot through with the poison of sunlight

let me add a little to mankind's misery

sow seeds in disintegrating acorns

between the iron of discarded rails

and the wings that are kept in the yard

of things that quack and cluck

this grassy shelf kept clear

in the abyss of yesterday's luck

watching clouds congeal

into painted stones

for a cyclops' hand alone.

A gilded dome inlaid

with heavily breathing flowers

and fan blades of turning script

the semblance of redacted lives

dancing on a marble floor

with feather footed ghosts

and gypsies moving hips

all streaked with a warden's blood.

My throne of straw

in a quiet corner

fingers of ink and vaginal secretions

cakes of brine from a heaving shore

of thinking tentacles

mop bucket of lavender cloth

for the aftermath of sloth

and an era of razors

carried past the palace lasers

and the dawn of vast empire's

grotesque death.

A stripe of gold across the sky

with hues of yellow, blue and white

dissolves against the distant stars

and melds with carousels of night

the veins of which are astral souls

that don't put on the guise of flesh

their dances reconfigure leaves

in which the sap of trees enmeshed

a human poison, held within

that blossoms poison on its wrecks

the kernel of our demon nature

embedded in its reticence

the cautious bonds that are not cautious

save to our deceitful eyes

we sever all that nourished us

and in the end deserve to die.

We make love on a pile of the dead

pulling manna from the sky

with a mysteriously free hand

cloud machines fall up into

rapaciously receiving space

missile shithouses

hats of the pretentious damned

benumbed eyes flooded with mercury

hearts and stomachs exchanged

in a dark process

we will wind the streamers

salvaged from this disintegration

around our radiated forms

and sweat the harm of many letters

through their fibers 'til the clay of flesh can live.