History gurgling in my chest, a fever drawn exterior to our desperate radiation dripping total violence everywhere.
Infinite repetition moves our womb backwards, more than enough for the fiery sitting next to the last baked day.
An eye that ascends to heaven, conforming to stone, into Being's ribs wafting thought become as wry contusions coralling inner wines suggestive of audible lines of flaked decorum.
Pulling purple static towards this always-now, a city, a void, copping lascivious feels of that evolving micro bending the dry, white skulls of the civilized delusion.
An energy capable of forming your singular face, form shining through prphetic walls that bleed brown.
In the service of the labia. Eternally sipping ceramic juices as multiple nodes of mystery.
Birth. Breath. The pain of letting go, of knowing that it all stops HERE, in the compassion of a golden pocket-trumpet pounding your soul into certainty smoking the thermonuclear universe away once and for all.