Monday, February 09, 2026

I can feel the mystery of the fungus
growing in every vein.
Peach fuzz phosphorescence
glowing on epidermal armor
fresh from the storm of the ages
that is eating the sky.

Death is coming in a thousand disguises,
raining on walls of steel with relentless music,
hiding in the balls of sand with balloon skin,
splattering the rails that hold
a throne of fecal ice.

Light is leaking from my toes
and from my shaded hands,
I must see the scattered rays
that link it to a fading shore.

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