How To Lose An Argument With The Monsoon Sky

1.

on this blood blossoming highway

my heart is a steam engine barreling onward

as the sound of air

 

violently decompressing

 

floods the passing terrain

with the crimson wailing

of indelicate endings

 

2.

trapped under the wreckage

of her defunct smile

 

I met an angel with a bow

made of ancient bones

and poison-tipped arrows

imprinted with the double helix

 

as the black soot of agony

caked onto my face

 

I saw a mutant devil

strumming his dozen arms

like a giant harp

made of centipede legs

 

3.

here on the stretcher

 

as my stolen oxygen streaks

through the air like burning tire treads

 

I shall await your returning fingertips

like a newborn awaiting resuscitation

 

for here

 

the licorice night

chomps down on

the iris-heavy calm

 

which once catapulted

this singing skull tower

 

from yellow to white

and back again

 

from sun to moon

and back again

 

4.

I,

with a mind

of a cyborg child

 

I,

with limbs made

of broken robots

 

am gone from the fight

 

returned to the great

filthy underbelly

 

from where I recall the inquisitive eyes

and the rare but admirable personalities

from the perspective of four thought-soaked legs

which splash and splash inside swelling puddles of rain

 

5.

as if the atmosphere

itself was saturated

 

like the pith

of a rare citrus fruit

that shone like purple diamonds

hovering over a pink skyline

 

I vomited the colors

as time carved my midsection

with the blade of living

 

then dried my organs

into tea leaves

 

to be soaked and sipped

by the slothful spin of the earth

by the mindlessness of the water-hungry trees

 

6.

fate melts into thickets of disguise

as you approach the avenue of despair

 

so I

turn off this rain

 

of consciousness

and strain

 

and as the escape hatch snaps open

the skeletal black

 

rises

like

ebony

dinosaur bones

 

swarming into the killing skies

swarming into the killing skies

7.

I see an angel with a bow

made of ancient bones

 

I see a mutant devil

strumming his dozen arms

like a giant harp

made of centipede legs

 

I watch from high above

as the artifice of the world

slowly exits from my body

in smoky kaleidoscopic ringlets

that playfully drift towards me

 

like a jester’s mischievous smile

like a jester’s mischievous smile