Idle Speak

There are phenomenal idle people,  
Yet fewer here than elsewhere  
The law of Aristotle’s plight  
has fallen the atmosphere  
 
I sat despondent of this combat  
Shades of magenta and ruddy explain the pale white  
The pale white inhales the imagination  
Facing annihilation beyond death  
The guards come expressing trumpets  
Their badges of execution expressionless    
Leading me into the corridors of the returned  
The breathing and swirls of machinery were alive  
Churns of mixed artistry as the linguists were inhaling me  
Fear but no despair as a billion stickpins took upkeep  
Then dullness of cocks and cunts incarnate while fucking  
Obligations contracted up existing debts;  
A core of electricity comes to life,  
Judgment halls of Sires with visions restored  
Happy people, hearts filling with grace,  
Lips of praise lolling the path to the grave  
All reaching over the Alchemist's dying head
The sigh of an expiring soul a benediction