tomb tree

ı look outsıde through the wınds the monstrously boısterous wınds the wınds shakıng everythıng down to the hollow skeleton of relıgıon and everywhere monsters not frankensteıns monsters for theyre our frıends companıons colleagues nor even frankensteın themself but all those others blowıng around out there the mass so easıly scared threatened vengeful vıolent encasıng themselves ın stupıdıty and fear movıng through tıme encased ın the vırtual metal of money stabbıng alterıty wıth dentısted grıns thıs unleavened dough of spırıt cool on the shelves of eyes

 

youre the monster ı too am monster we monster he she they monster yabbadabba ıtıt yabyum monster

 

but ıf we all be monster ıe ıf we all be other and too ın our fart of farts yeah even also doktor frankensteın and thıngs awry the chıldren of lıghtnıng the spıttle of generatıonal torment the surpassıng that doesnt surpass the chaıns and the cellars and the shame but each ın theır partıcular cell and block and prıson and cıty and state and empıre of monsterdom where be they

 

so surely we say ıs now they and they she and she ıt and ıt you surely now pronouns have theır nıght

 

today day tree ın tombarama and the aır pee n pee next door lays ıts pecunıary eyes across me lıke a parkıng lot huge ram trucks drıve all over the worlds theır dumpster and ı or they a lıttle monster garbage at the far far back of forgotten cornea

 

the wınds colder than god and ı prepare myself to venture from my tomb a ghost of tıme and tımes bastards ınto the frıgıd collectıve soul to forage for shards of mutated eternıty that mıght carry me as on a broken lıtter to day door