Mutually Assured Nirvana at Hell

I drool over the cross coffin until it beeps red,
remembering there have never been children
or an innocent one in the Earth that's kept a silent blue
in its self-oppression.
 
When I look into the eyes of this chaos,
it undoes the sense of rubble
and rips lack down through its green to an unmeasure.
 
To touch this hollow with my fingers, lick it over my tongue
and float my butterfly eyes
past the atoms of an existence, off bubbles of shells of darkness
into that muzzle
and hold this world to the thread of cocoons from before I had this resignation
backward onto my equality
in an electric chair,
I bit my atriums
and refused new blood from other urban air.
 
This is my true love
in the hairs of a broom
flowing under the pins of this observed universe
in the back of everyone's open eyes
 
with mine,
that unrooted their nerves under an artificial morning of the sleeping sun
in the cover of roulette beads interspliced by an REM reality.
 
Bop the coffin.
All is broken.

Fin.