The match is lit as we laugh,
drop it and watch it all burn,
this forest of dreams,
flames crackling on smoking leaves
spitting sparks and dance towards the sky
waving one final goodbye and burst into ash
raining back down.
A soot blanket to warm the earth.
Knewl-post trees fold and bow, gnarl and age
before plaster dust clouds from buildings in shrouds of falling debris.
A vortex whirlimg speedily around us as we sink into a dark ichor ring
and rise incorporeal.
To live again a life of shame and lewd desiring.
The breath of life, we steal, drawing it out of the flesh with the scythe of death;
our eternal lover.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
