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The grinding motors of decaying engines Panted in ever shorter gasps on the voyage to the “capolinea” And the doors in the corridor passways Swung open and closed, biting the green-yellow light of need Seeping in through the lacunae of an afternoon of un-affection. Here lamenting sighs of obese monsters were carried away Over backward sucking tracks covered with spit and urine And the cries of spoiled over-fed and un-cared for infants Punctuated its incessant pull, mistaken for prayers of Aeneas. The air was wet with sugary juices dripping from their mouths Which had already sucked out too much from Mother Earth And their comic books were filled with old coloured obscenities Rotting putrefied images of the Demiurge’s great untouchables. Stinking incomplete phrases were vomited up onto membranous spheres From an underworld of sulphur and smoke Vomited up onto the doorsteps of the passing stations of life Where poor miserable and violent creatures waited In a raging hurricane of hate and wickedness Whose centre was a blackened hole in a storm of madness. The oxygen of life was pulled out of the vegetation Now cancerous cankerous parenchyma no longer green As death tried to re-create itself outside itself In a final futile attempt to feel an instant of life Insane within the rumbling white dust of loss and negation.

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