Up in the attic with my dead brothers and fallen saints
fingertips and media freezing
idols of carved lime bleeding neon threads
paths of clay slipping through rivers of petroleum
android ropes coating metal with ancient dust
as they move through libraries of shining coal
pulling planet lava

cracked smiles on granite discs
limbs glued to settled milk
on the desktops of erupted shadows
trains on shelves in a smashed museum
columns of stained salt
shedding webs of adhesive

electrical outlets in wrists,
the cervix, a brittle stalk of neck
stabbing at miles of ceiling with headless energy
a vacant spine tagged with breaking numbers
rows of bright lights buried in tar and slime.