Twilight is dawn with style.

Tonight the idols fall before

my fist of ages.

Tonight the fountains call

a thousand eyes.

Life under a false god

becomes more and more expensive.

The lying fabric pulls

at every throat.

The ground chokes.

The land of my birth is only

the closest enemy.

Disillusionment is redundant.

The shores ooze blood

from other dying kingdoms:

escape is even worse.

The end will bring me laughter

over hills of glass

as I slide past the prison casket.

In their parades of death

the robot warrior has won

an artificial kingdom

for the glory of an artificial son.

A pebble gives birth to a planet

without one final word

carved slabs are sliding

down a wet hill of clay

the crossroads have gone out

beyond the highway

I love the clear night while it lasts

tides of mercury wash my empty flask

of a body, eyes inflated rise

to the mirage of the surface

mountains find mirrors in the sky

like shopping malls of grass

expanded through galactic ruin

the paths of lightyears tarnished

by a flying corpse

cranes lifting chunks of molten keys

beneath its borrowed blood dispersing

walls of brine like bedroom curtains

closing on the sleep of many cycles

fences bending like a beauty's hair

for the end that was not there.

Flesh bombs landing on the altar of death

spheres of shimmering darkness

communicating with bodily oil

making the chain of lives dance

with asymmetric energy

to the portal of an unknown sun.

Ruin be damned with deep roots

come groaning to life again

flowers unravel the concrete

poured by aliens before

her eyes hold a whole film reel of faces

shelves of light projecting

past the crack of shade

she shot through everything

putting a disc in place

under the landslide

following the haste

of her jade tendrils

pushing secret doors.

Pour hot tar on your heart.

Turn down the bribe of life.

Listen to the commands

of a robotic echo.

Let the scythe be the only thing

that moves.  Let the plates

beneath the continent

be decorated with human shit.

Celebrate random degradation.

Chew those pigeon feathers

with the meat uncooked.

Let the eaves sing

with the joy of poison rain.

May the stain speak

of stinking excellence.

May the pamphlets that

program disaster be shared

with eyes clamped open

all over the earth.

Heavy metal zen glaze

encased in globes of perfect frenzy

a xylophone of file drawers

a ceiling's interlocking teeth

transparent flesh revealed

in mirror panels

when the roads are quiet I rejoice

though they brought me to this island

in their fury of production

I was pissed into a dawn of milk

the demon of these ruins

trying to be reborn in secret

for infinite eyes to see

A dead end life to decorate

a drawer that opens under the ribcage

with reels of brightly colored wire

and hot split valentines

with winking sightless eyes

cracked angel hands holding a live bat

letting its lightweight bones and soft skin

struggle to fly for the caves again

a library of tattered script

rows of long tables each with only one chair

and huge rugs pregnant with incense

of perfumed psilocybin

fragrant at midnight and

fading in the morning sun

all powered by bicycle pedals

caught spirit moving shadow tons.

I saw division: now I see commonality.

We are all warped.  The fabric is listening.

Storms are in aquarium tanks tonight.

The moonlit ground is bright

as a rainless cloud.

The tree lined paths by the river's edge

host naked ghosts.

A blade swims like a drone

in these sleepy currents.

Shrines of waxen salt rock

epiphanies meeting steel

altar's cradle a pool of eggs

all speckled with the sunlight's dregs.