"I should have died", he said

Jesus makes the shotgun sound, in explosions of neuroleptics, in a fireworks fanfare, in up under out OVER mountains. Through and under mountains, in great upwards thrusts of granite taken for granted, tossed aside rag dolls and crushed carcasses, cast off, cast away, floated…flying, but no more flying. Numb….anti-psychosis meds work on the lobe of the brain that controls rationality, on the part of the brain responsible for not blowing massive fucking holes in the sides of mountains, for not extirpating the iridescent non-incessant fragile hosts of everything, in crack rock tumble, fall floating down in a landslide of false rationals, retinal reception is faulty, but moreso with aluminum casing. This is often the case.




Inhale-
crouch in a flower, pollinate powder,
don’t scrape your knees on diamonds and silence.
(blow by blow, eye for an i) all quick and
in a moment, all loud and in a void, sound of hands
clapping in an onomatopoeia motion. Breathe
the pollen already crack into that six pack breath
of thunderous and always noticing static electric
butterfly, whirlwind of motion, all in a
whirlwind of motion, all in, all in a
day or a week or a year.

Or...
Frightening and refrigerated, cold and
Preserved, the oceans have eyes and they
Scream out, out, OUT.

-exhale.


Feedback is welcome.
I love positives and negitives, don't be shy to point out the crap.

Wow. That was incredible powerful.

That was the best poem. Very powerful.