Cityscapes

scared

without place, burning up as if galloping through breath, without stopping, squishing tarantulas, sunrays, clots of delirium, lifelike gorillas, nausea, looking back at the beating fire, the mouth of the revolver, the graffiti on that face, the sea of bones crunching as it strips naked, like a milky path halfway en route to the electric chair, the landscape of the eye like an open refrigerator, the teeth on the shroud chewing me up with worms, those intestinal worms driving full speed through my ghosts, the bareness of reminding me with broken mirrors and perfume, my name everywhere, black, concrete rain pressuring me against my skull of stagnant water with flowers, the ice floe of waves without cross, the mountain of witnesses blinded by angels, the spittle of sperm swirling in the blender, the circumference from before and the foreskin like an infinite foreskin to hide me from the end of the world on the verge of erupting, blinded from pauses and screams snowing, the photography of my explosions at full blood, neither vertigo, nor cavities, nor genital racket from dark alleys, neither dust clouds, nor wrecks,

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