the feedback mirror. fetishes of the snakecharmed.
shock machines decorate a reality tunnel
in the mesenchyme of psychic graffiti
revelations bubble into the syndrome
of a schizoid masochist
all of those locks
come with wellness
we will make a nest
in oblivion
call it deluge, my dear
we will refer to it
in a hush
fallen angels haunt the backyards
of torn down houses
like barren tombs
with made up names
the lamentations of ghosts
we cautiously cleanse ourselves
the influenza of symmetry
product dignity
breath retires the heart
that whispers the empathies
of a peace compelled
to a margin
if you eliminate what comes before
then you eliminate what is to come
you are left
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