weed bittered wind devils degrade the scenery
as we dine on wound down clock parts skyped from
inside the guts of the night we last felt light in our skins.
hell is made by people who want you to hurt for being yourself.
i just made a fridge magnet poem from the gravy boat sky,
it sucked as much it sounds like it should,
only good works are made by the righteous now,
and we dine on the clock parts which have
wound down from nights as bastard sized
as the eyes of a japanese monster trying to raze the crazed city mazes
that are navigated by touch, taste, sex and mutual affectation.