Are We

Questionable weights, under
Brandish molten microcosms
Flung at the phantasmal;
Lucid, seemingly graspable,
Constructed from obsidian
Blades plagued by patterns;
Mottled lichen growths;
Contrasting cortexes against
Shaded terrains of flame
Shapes in curvatures, whir,
Witnessed by nuances in our
Materialization into this domain,
Slip, frozen, slit,
Made invisible, into
That dimension; alternate.



Morality fights a battle
With hedonistic gains.

Required wooden beats
Of xylophonic tweets
The amount against us:
Four antagonistic rings.

Opposing rustic tones
In glockenspiel cries
Metallic shrills in posts
Of shivering wars lost.

Compartmentalised pitches
Of variant dimensions
Or altercations
In alternative time lines.

Had this altered reality
Been woven from
Less threads of irony
Perhaps the threat
Of chromatic order
Would have weighed
Less heavily.

Had pits of venomous snakes,
The ditches of fecal mud,
And basins of sulfuric waters,
Been a tad less full,
Maybe my mind
Would be able to find
Specific words to relocate.

Had tragic courted endings
Been drummed in rhythmic
Temporal tempoed thrums;
Successions of hilarious distinction,
Could’ve led to succinct trills
Of thrilled horrors of sharpened
Ballads of succubus murder.

If my brain could be convinced
To decide
Was enough
Of a reason to keep dragging
This ball of chaotic rumblings
To the middle chapter
To places where pilots
Could take off their names
I could have thought
We stood a fighting chance
Instead of feeling
It becoming an