Fall(ing) and Gett(ing) UP

The fresh breeze of

pungent death fills

nostrils with the joy of

sweet green rivers

under blue-gray skies.

No longer portending death,

but making love to it.

The open fruit,

cracked wide to receive light,

ready to devour itself.

Methane migraine, doubled over

and over, ready to explode.

The dust of the earth –

The dirty semen of Salvation

We raise our coal towers,

sooting over the ivory of yesteryear.

Immortality and salvation sucked

inward with the forced orgasm

of toxic manitees.

The nutty hard-boiled protein,

another protrusion and intrusion

scraping of textured walls.

Space inside out, tearing flesh.

Infinite spills, red on white,

enduring the rape and

cannibal mystic of excess.

In 3-D. Revolutions of eternity

until another other side makes

flat the world – wonderful again.

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