Killing Spree

So… Does the wall tick your life away? Too much sand for a forked head? Parricidal tyranny rules your place, Melted into your wrist, Breeding dodecagonal planes? Revolution, the only way Slow down your rhymes Precambrian steps Deep underwater frames Creation dies In the back of your head It crumbles to the ground Victim of ultrasonic-cotton sounds Back into floating wires and dust The original form Free… Willing to become something more Perhaps cylindrical-prism birds Or static twisters of masked paint Melted light, eroded heat Amorphous haze built out of sticks A flock of snails flying west Yet one flew over the cuckoo’s nest Breathe… Look around… Repeat… Non-beating chains Plastic moments, washed away By steam pulses, infrared Comeback of the organic reign [Stay home and watch the rain]