on this shaded cage of glass
I will be a willing wanderer
on the chains that are all human paths
leading to celestial incineration
with a side of french fries.
Roads will throw off
their furniture of wheels
lava will gulp the clock
and the plans
for more business meetings
the ships will move off brightly
into the math that kills.
Playgrounds for adult machines
eclipsed by gassed lands
shorelines eating the scissor's handle
in a burning hand.
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