Prime initiative firing
on coke bottle cylinders.
A stitch past wearily;
his cognitive delirium
breeds an alien's barbarity.

No flare for a sailor to see,
the stillborn sea devours
his Saturn Missile pleas
like a herbivore foraging
fields of forever greens.

Castaway calluses stack
for an armor-clad effect.
Think homemade tank flesh
for a rainy day's doom flash.
Clickety clack... he's on track.

The Lotus's control is unknown.
Best take a backstroke anyway, folks.
An avalanche throne only holds
'til the caveman's stone is thrown
Black hole tenacity God couldn't close.