Let society retrogress deranged as
The feral wings of a fossilized bird,
I just want to be primitive, mortal
Painted in clay and calcite, half
Undressed, dread-locked, and vital
To the universal infrastructure
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Unplugged from the android collective
I want to exist in a time where demons
Stand, not behind a mantel of human flesh
But outside of a simple ring of salt, in a
Time measured by the saturation of the sky
And the vertical momentum of lupine-dwelling
Meadows. I want my heart to be the place
Most visited and the rains to absolve sin
By the cleansing of pollutions that never
Penetrate the core or harden over the face
Like the maniacal funhouse masks of pretend
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I want to be innocent, holy cradled by the
Chesire grin of an impartial moon, in shades
Of grey where the sentient inherently lay. I
Want to be imperfect, to fail blessed by the
Chance to try again. In this heathen temple
Shaped by the deeds of my own hands close
To the mother of ten thousand things I want
To scream on my deathbed that I have lived
mindlovemisery 