Vile
Parasitic producer of trash… you claim this universe by your flights of graze…
so forms of summer foliage should adorn your
innards of orthodox decor... what more?
it follows then
some fucking digit
graciously set
so sentient bundle which performs a “you” could point
to
what accompaniment now, you harasser of sheep?
pecking at… pulling in jest... it goes on to molest canvas
I wish a similar intrusion into your soul/your capacity for pain
Pain which you so easily spray on vegetal gaze
that some mutation made expectant...
Taken/understood tremor, nausea are rewards nature serves such unfortunate mutation
yet... this one’s choice of a robe drags on
celebrates freedom from meaning... still hijacks it to
exchange dead tissue
but never
you can never mean
spray
you only harass
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