Sinewy Tomb

Entombed in this womb of flesh and blood – sealed with unsacred
smears of pus.
Dripping with juice of tasteless lust – screaming as even the
good child must.
Ejecting minuscule sticky white men – a generative odyssey
again and again.
Clamoring in the maternal flannel – to be swallowed by the
paternal panel.
Handled gently scampering softly; fluttering slowly –
descending fast!
Bacterial ambitions acrid and yellow – enamored of the boney
tools they envelop.
Materials pass through me as I gather heat – then daily
visits to go shit in a heap.
Acid-rain corrosives do damage to food – reflux painting pains
that signal too rude.
Dislodged mucous to spit onto disgrace – bittersweet tears
streaming down an ogre’s face.
Oily genital hairs strewn over our fabric – foul-smelling
breath emanating from a mystic.
Those crescents of keratin we strive to detach – that mean
anal itch we writhe to scratch.
Rivers red and blue in flux through you – thunderstorming
axons in white and grey goo.
Precarious heights those nefarious lights – flights of
prancing throughout ancient nights.
Salivating slightly at mere floating signs – sweating
profusely at glimpses divine.
Fire-ripened scalpels come digging for marrow – hollowing me
out for a purer tomorrow.
Fire meets water in a cataclysmic release – drowning out the
droning in a tranquil peace.
Gracious winds come spiral through my bones – an ecstatic
swirling communion with gods.
A dissolution of the material condensate – this is the
solution the masses necessitate.
Freed from a bondage of silent suffering – a lone bird chirps
of the regal unfettering.
What surface shines in pomp is shown, at heart to be a place
What appears as fancy moonlit sheen, revealed is known as
hell we fear.
What once was sought as curves or frames, is felt inside enwreathed
in pain.
 What all have grown
clenching tight in fist, disenchants at last as we dissolve into mist. 

One thought on “Sinewy Tomb

  1. this has to be my favorite line. makes me feel as though I'm ready to be in line for an upgrade, or reboot.

    "Fire-ripened scalpels come digging for marrow – hollowing me out for a purer tomorrow."

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