with all your doom you murk the underdark
of your insipid calamity
caroling the bells of a unique chapel
in the bleak felspar afternoon sun
chiseled from a monolith
of brooding star foam
and jaundiced
tangerines.


with all your dust
you anoint the desolation
of your contemptible
menagerie of free range
left handed oysters
with teeth
and all the sunken eyes
of a drunken leviathan
howling in a marsh
of aggravated
slumber

where the tune
of a misfit
is perfect.

all the time.