The sun is a dreadful satsuma,
A man who looks like an Algernon,
with tomato sauce stains on his offwhite vest paces nervously,
Lives discarded,
As books turn to ash, word lost into the unrelenting forward waddle,
Memory palaces unmoored and imploding,
The sky pregnant with skin and consumer goods,
As sheet metal drops and curls like polyester scarves,
The hideous snake like hisses of sirens,
Eyes darkening like a newborns.