Comatopia

Birds slam into puddles
Wings pouring in arsenals of disease
The stalemate of storms
Says I’m sick with a cure
That looks like belief

Celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
But mercy never knew that shadow of ours
Intoxicated under the influence of flames
The bottle sits unopened; it’s death that drops like rain

Pangea is restrung
And Odin’s breath steals us
From our prison’s pores
Sedated in swarms
A market of fleas
Clausterphobes and thieves

Celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
But mercy never knew that shadow of ours
Intoxicated under the influence of flames
The bottle sits unopened; it’s death that drops like rain

And I’m eyed by the eyes that I’m eyeing with mine
Am I born?
The ephemeral song of your biblical wrongs
Counts the strays

Celestial serial killers are too squeamish to kill
But mercy never knew that shadow of ours
Intoxicated under the influence of flames
The bottle sits unopened; it’s death that drops like rain

Much too drunk with the thinking
You’re forgetful of blinking at the sun
Now it’s your loss that you’re lost
As you cross hell’s alleys where you left your cross

Sweet monuments mourn what’s
Ensnared in every throat
We do our breathing ‘till it gets too cold
Elude the air that knocks on
These psychotropic doors
We keep on building ‘till it gets too old

A brain washed and fried
It wrinkles and dries
A derelict sage grabs at the brain
And shoves it inside
A heart hacked and thawed
From the horrors it saw
A pretense pretends
There might be an End
To impulsive flaw

The ruins of fallen kingdoms,
They’re waiting to break my fall
Intent upon the instincts,
Content without them all

The hallway ends upon a ledge
The lights go on, cause life goes on-
Begin again

The Ides of Litany

show us how you hobble when your ankles twist and break
when we serenade your carcass, picking clean your ravaged state
now, escape is just a justified just barely just it is
the future is so tense now with the present's last past fit
mid life crisis, kiss the irist
the swallowed pride that binds the eyelids to the ides of litany
with chuckles stripped of their shackles, washed clean of their sins
they were baptized in the fading arms of autumn
and we fell for those leaves as they fell from the trees
while the autumn would fall with a difficult ease
towards a winter's envy wilting away from spring's haphazard disease
all in the span of a wave of a hand
the strangers have met in this season of mists
succumb, rewind,
too lost to find
an idle hearse,
the buried verse
reversed, posses
this dialect
recur, combust
so found its lost
the open ends
revealed again-
against the odds
cry revenant
while all its friends
yell charlatan