The world forged
By eons of soul-diminishing evolution
Not in the shrapnel cities
Of social materialism
I crawl through the mud
Burrow deep in the earth’s infrastructure
Become one with sediment
=
I write to capture genius
Between the veins
Of pale limp flesh
The ink soaked revelations
Of my tepid existence
Bleed through pages
Of egocentric musings
=
Anyone can be brilliant
If they offer up the heart
In the primitive act of sacrifice
Kindred beasts gather to worship
At incense fires and altars strewn
With poisoned flowers and peyote
They come not for my words
But for their own visions
A poet is nothing more than a spiritual catalyst
A Shaman reading animal bones
=
Through my words
I come to understand the world
In fragments, like wayward spirits
Glimpsed in over-exposed photographs
Or in the black windows of old houses
Without a voice I take on the pallor
Of one deceased
=
I slipped into the cellar
In the dark I drank all the wine
Sweet soporific secrets
Packed deep in layers of musky earth
On the cold damp floor
I dreamnt terrible and wondrous things
Siphoned wisdom from the ether
Stale in life, ravenous in imagination
=
Withered if left in the sun too long
I hide during the daytime
Deformed through observation
I know myself only through isolation
Through the pain of amputation
The apparent doesn’t satisy
My carnivorous appetites
I am compelled to create and interpret
Morsels of decayed consciousness
mindlovemisery 
