...the [bad word] of a coarse drape against an open wound, which will seal itself in wilted skin and plummet into a mine of violent isolation, where the oracles are swallowed, broken teeth and transformed into rigid, immovable stone.

The sage [bad word] in the pit of his throat, guards against the output of hope and he maniacally dances in a river of depraved, life-denying conclusions whose tributaries spread deprivation and the mangled shadows of his flailing, barbarous limbs flickers of weak, damp
electricity in a condemned building whose tenant brandishes bouquets of unnatural deadness and rests in slabs of seconds.

Cross-eyed from dementia, veins either frigidly inactive or pulsating uncontrollably, he quivers in [bad word] moment as spiders graze upon his shoulder, extract his blood in the [bad word] of daylight and he yields to annihilation's crawl

On clear nights he dissipates into thousands of salmon-colored specs and plasters his body to a remote stone wall, to hear the faint sounds of a pipe organ which with each pressed pedal, resuscitates his tired lungs with vibrant air [bad word] the prisons of cacophonous
thought, pausing the clamor of exhausted shoes flooding his garden of embitterment

But when the sensation has diminished, he feels unworthy of pleasure a dragon whose heart has bursted from guarding alone a cache of treasure which no one values and no one visits.

Omens appear above me, threading the borders of reality and boundless chaos the stirring evidence of our dialogue, a cross-dimensional collage pasted by stable, determined hands, which expand and creak like aging floors intent on sharing the pains of growth.