no black hole

coitusing away too long in the demigod swagger,
humans invent the immortality
that is no fate of star or black hole.
humanity is good at horrors, but no black hole.

electric candled spruce trees wore us down
until the only way became the only way to prey.
i believed for a time, afraid of living more than death.
comic con cosplayers shuttled the theme from hero to
victim, to heroic victim, samaritan, to hippy beaten down by cops.
we will only ever be free of having to be appeased by release.

i went walking out in to the waves of a hurricane,
became tossed, beaten to the sandy bottom, scraped,
water boarded, blinded by brine, lost in the moment,
things could have become quite serious.
and in the wake no deities vying for my love,
no beatific cherubim escorts,
no sad eyed hippies and no demon pushing me under.
i found the end of me in the pummeling, and became lost at last.
alone in the sea, i caught the tide back to shore, saved.

Poem #83

Drains remind me slender zoned is the passage from alive to loosed particle.
I enrich appended themes icing roamed over glutton mind schemes, no more really.
Only molecular configuration, chemistry with motives, gurus of nothing.
I bargain with entropy for more time, it’s going to be useless, won’t gird my natural inclination to undo, unbe.

My id drifter hunts interstates for comfort in sparse furnished mental motels.
There is an ugly isotope colliding with ideology everywhere I turn.
Irradiated, we stumble or gig or wish until the tired cells break down.
Police in masks made of nightshade rumors unwind our trajectory, disable our engines.
Keep on, we can only keep on through the night.

I am electrical signal wrapped in soft tissue, would like to be more glorious, fail now to bow.
But that isn’t so bad, is it?
To fade to static, unwind, break down, sleep is nothing more than practice.
It’s just so long, soundless, didn’t we expect to go on?