Mulched frequencies spearing through me, glistening in the pitching, squealing through my hearing, causing my eyes to see glitches, zilching from scrambled beams, materializing in infants dreams, rearranging the seam lines of the confines planted by parents vacant-ed, by undermining slave ships, of merchants, rubbing their grubby hands together.

Everythings better burned, in smoke steeps spiraling as far as the eye can see, swallowing fluffy smotherings of blue skies disguised as storm clouds, shrouding the loud, and obnoxious crowds of clowns squeezing noses while folding balloon roses, before exposing notions of permanence and relevance to pin you to their settlement of fools.

Happy, sad or just cool, i want simply nothing, but a blank face in my place of power, where the spent can cower in nothingness, blissfully lifting us above the smog, in godless pause before the blast of evolution, passed in through the degradation of chromosomes through polluted wombs to mossing tombs on bleeding wounds that never healed.

Sealed in a shield of yieldless peeling of my world for a gift so great, the stake is felt across the world in a ripple of love that whirls into the winds of life, and twirls into the sky, igniting a sight so great that everyone dies, as we rise again for the first time, in blue sunlight so bright that we absorb the light, and emanate it in the night, shining in fightless insight, of a universe that flys through a forest of unknowns.