DOTLAN EveMaps

We smoke the toe nails and hair of the Wise Man.
Under a black God's thumb.
We dance like painted puppets.
She bleeds orgasm in technicolor.
An ocean of alien mystery.
We eat the Wise Man's eyes for sight that we might see the darkness if we kill the lights fast enough.
We eat the brain and pray that our eyes can open wide enough.
We burn the dry shell at a funeral chant.
The pulse quickens and we dance as the blossoms fall.
The scattering of dust in the winds
The celebration of Old Skin.
I feel every flower that is screaming to consume me.
The Earth and Sky your cradle.
The Earth and Sky entomb you.
So is the way of forever.
Teeming with simple cruelties.
Beatings in cold rooms, hands and head not found.