the lull

the moths creep me out
as they barge in thru the eyelids
my eyes dont have wipers
dead headlights in
a dead car

lou floats above
mounted atop the white ostrich
screeching its practised octaves
offering his hymns to leopold
undead yet dead alright

my korg lies prostate burnished
in submission half dead detuned  
dustgreen buds scattered atop it
like old funeral flowers
dead and dry
for the dead

the shattered shards of greenhouse glass
curb their collective dependency
the demons howl growl in gravitas
the distant noise drills thru the myringa
whirring pouring dead words of
the deaf blind long dead stars

the dead shrub has not let go of
the black soil even now
disemboweled
its another mushroom
just another clowd
another alien monster
another fucking human
dead inside dead outside
in the bones in the brain

a train of red ants march
with their prized catch
a dead roach gleaming
in the surplus radiation
of a dying star
they vanish behind
the decaying wood

i pick it up
feel its cold rusted feel
on my lips taste its sorrow
twitch blink cock

the silver rope falls
with the spotlight
no longer i feel
the weight of
my jacket or
my life
nothing