6

                            
                       Statues rising all above,          
                        trying to be one of them,          
                        trying to say something smart,        
                        trying to show that I can.        
         
         
         
Entering the temple now, hearing drum beats, heavy, rhythmic patterns, elephants and mammoths lurking, heads of statues slowly turning;    
     
heaving air, hot and vibrating, bodies shaking, hearts unbreaking long and rhythmic, thick legs, holy muscles flashing fleshy vessels, musty, full of ghosts unsettled, full of secret lusts;    
     
while the machine keeps steaming, glowing blistering, bloating whispering, periodical and gleaming;    
     
stopping and feeling closing doors above, below, hard without warnings, floating in a sea of wires razor sharp;    
     
now being in their midst, still watching, stomping growling all around and heavy rhythmic hips keep thrusting, momentarily glancing full of lust but never lasting "this is so fucking mind enhancing";    
     
now I feel the hot air whirling, streams in bursts from left to right, where right was left, shattered by godly power I might start, still partly screaming, while tensely bulking skins regard me, pointing to new meanings of no meaning;    
     
telling the idea of bodily erruption, one track loops, they lock me into screeching metals, reeking of corruption;    
     
is it just me or are we softly starting, parted, empty, some of us are dying, bleeding out of every pore, while trying not to show an opening, how sore and glassy our bones have gotten, crushed and masked but rotten, a great mass, laying long forgotten bodies, wobbling, leaning, static fiends, us, unforgiving;    
     
reds and pinks reflecting hot waves, while we keep reenacting these same old plays of curves and clay, no dirt, the floor is clean and cold, we don't look up, it's just before, behind, we all got stuck at some point in this state of mind;    
     
new curves and craters keep erecting, being this sacred house now, none is acting, anymore, and none is talking, thinking, now together moaning, all the while in cold unblinking.