O blissful sin
From the mind's anarchy
The longing taste of repugnance
And crippling dancers on the tongue's testimony
As the hour fleets unknown
A murmuration of frequency
Is forced upon me
Like the naivety of a child's rebellion
I stand longingly
And wait for death's proclamation
--So I whiff a stick of wood
And stare as the element of Earth waver
The first, I puke of retaliation
Second, I enjoy the satisfaction
Third, I experience the body's emancipation
Fourth, I embrace the end of an operation
At the final act, of my Earthly bounds and desires
I neglect the chance of an association
The truth of incarnation
As the smoke of wood lingers on the roof of my mouth and nose