Order, such a precipitous thing
Known only to high mountaintops,
When the air is much too thin
For creatures of such soft flesh.

Sickly creations
Who seem to need ever burning fires
Of anger, hate, and fear,
Just to keep the warmth
Of neverlasting life.

Oh Burn, Burn, Burn
In the raging fires
Ignited by the gods
of sparks and madness.

Better to inhabit the crevices and cracks of
nature,
The low places,
the valleys,
the washes,
the drainage ditches, and gutters,
where clutter and clinging
are a natural occurrence,
and the universal law of gravity,
pulling one over further down,
aids and abets the reluctant
unfortunate inhabitants
of shallow,
yet deeply dug,
depressions.

Let us infest these chunks
Like the proliferation of unwanted moss
And scummy mold on old rotting roofs.

Let us inhabit the low low-lands
of habit trodden and over-foraged clear-cuts,
where slug slime and rotting decay
lubricated our lonely cohabiting distrations.

Let us fan the flames of funerary fires
To better barbeque the beastial carnage,
And let us gnash on bone sharpened fangs
To better tear at foxy furs
So seductively laid out
and displayed
as grand prizes
alongside the trophied-soul-atrophied foxy ladies
glorifying the all-gory exhibitionism.
A fitting allegory of the
naked mounted memories
of our cherished conquests.

Let us crawl inside
These dead hides,
Within our mindful meditations
So that we may hide from our shameful
Nakedness, rawness, and hidden vulnerabilites.

That same nakedness
that can only be peeped at
through the light of darkness
In this self titillating
pornographic pawn shop
Of our sick and desiccated hearts.

Oh Burn, Burn, Burn
In the raging fires
Ignited by the gods
of sparks and madness.

Greeted by thunderous applause
The angry gods appear with lightning speed to
assist us in our impotence.
Our enfeebling shaking and quivering
That is forever an all-knowing of our shalt notness.

Our forever and ever not beingness.

Upon catching scent of that which stalks us
deep into the night.
We in-vainly attempt to squirm and shiver off
the deathly cold thought.
That none of this
matters.

Oh Burn, Burn, Burn
In the raging fires
Ignited by the gods
of sparks and madness.