Instinctive Pressure (Surrealist Poem)

Time itself brings light to reason,
caught by the harpies that manifest our murder,
bleating with the shape of a zebra,
snatching heroes from under the spires of the spirit.

Legalistic, you pant, breathing heavy.
Mortis!
Dreaming the days of men around the antics of a Dolphin’s Wu Wei.
Powers driven, plight rising in the zombie’s dormancy,
maternity lost, bit by the mists of contagion.

Sash-o-millia!
Rainbow genetics bringing life to the bugs of destiny…
“Don’t forget to buy the entire supermarket!”
Ruptured by the vorpal blade hidden in the snake’s sentiments,
moaning next to a 47-year-old father,
“Shots heavy son! The raptors are coming!”

Orthogonal projections of a tree faery’s romance with M-theory –
the water that drowns lingering defiance and emotional allowance simultaneously.
Box the bastards that colour tiles white and red,
as if only toilets could hold a river of infinite space,
the impertinence you show us is blasphemy!
Alas, God has always disgraced itself with the bodies of the fallen.

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