Cyst brewed concoction

A writhing lizard’s tail
Dancing to the tune
Of melodies made
By instruments used
To sever it
A rhythm which I just imagine
While someone else
Strings it together

The sound of the apple bite
Overlaid on the ovoid panflute signature
A character saying the word “issue”
Stressing the S into an aristocratic snake’s hiss
On a glistening green countryside matte painting
But standing on top rather than before it
As if only the players have switched
But the posture remains constant

Cello strings and hand saw
Roadrunner CEO of Acme
A throne with each peg
Deep in slit necks
Of bodies offered comfort unbeknownst
Rocks worn smooth with lymph
Watch your step
Might end up being heir of the throne

Sickly sweet smelling acid screwdriver
The medium of poison rain to paint upon
With dense millimeters of supercooled pigments
Longing for contact of a cold simmer
The hisses will be stored and repurposed
For the strung up throat lips mouthing notes
So that even when the scene is canvassed by inquisitors
We can laugh at them for falling for it

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Squeaky wheel

The most cynical way to describe cyclic hydrocarbons
Tyre as fruiting body, don’t get caught up in jargon
Most volatile compounds straight from impounds, a bargain
Try nature in courts for forest fires as arson
New edition, still perfect condition, comes with the whole garden

Homecoming

Welcome home,
To nowhere in particular
It might seem anomalous
But everything is exactly as it was

Don’t look at the upside down pylon,
With its head buried in shame
We would offer the same,
If it actually were upside down

The abrupt foundation of the road,
Which leads to a perpendicular interminable horizon
Wait, I mean, which leads to your erstwhile homestead
Now stop with the daft questions and embark!

The immaculate sign invites you
Ah fuck it, the rain has washed the wet paint
Let’s both go and revivify,
To pull same scheme on the next fool exiled

Bank

Closed quarters, it’s cordoned off from prying eyes
First one to reduce to ash, no residue, first prize
Hey, it’s your funeral, but you’re no longer invited
Pilot light seared corpse, clean fuel for head corps, ignited

Prop up the dead as props to be hung if still bled
Every breath accounted for, cost benefit against process sped
Let enough heat fester to foster more killing
Side by side, tell how it’s more efficient than offshore drilling

Each stick, stone, skull, adhesive of centrifuged meat slime
Hold walls of water, in less than projected turnaround time
Set up domes to claim, launder dead remains recycled by nature
Don’t matter if it don’t hold water, now sealed by state legislature