In being and unbeing
I come to you today...

A single line,
undefined, hangs...

There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again...

Yes it is descriptive only,
the unbearable pain of denudation...

Xanax in the blood
screams...

The tall, dense, tree of life
divides the culture, ages...

No it will not work.
The amalgam of arrival...

A near cult glows/ on faces-
for harvesting peace...

Understanding-
the sexuality...

Overreaching for chemical signs
and word for word...

Stoma
opens, ejects the scream...

Refusing to be
healed...