I want the flat world
to creep in and smash me
like a bug.
No more fighting with
the pornographic executioner--
I just don't look.
Keep me out of your
social order. Don't
anoint me with
your bullshit sirens.
Don't drug me like a bookmark
stuck at random
in an untouched book.
You have nothing left
to offer the likes of me.
I eat the sunlight
from the rain.
I set fire to the walks
I take alone.
The zone bereft of echoes
is my empty plane
where chains of flowers leap
from my deathly hands
and the burned wheat stands.
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