I nurse the distant
past,

as it sits upon my lap and the

eternal hemisphere echoes in my chamber.

upon the light,
it delights at the fright as i fight
with great might to stray
from the plight
of your unsightly
kite.


heaven is near.

and hell is closer.

pull the plug beneath the carpet
and sip the glass
with the eyes of fortune
cast.

at last,

your feces taste of bitter misery
and oranges