Things Become Beings

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Don’t Get Involved with Others Lips.

For Thoughts Become Beings.

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Beings Who become small gods. Small gods whispering idolatry.

Beings Who take up residence within your mind. Illegally. Occupying your Brain. Then when you least expect it they Leap into predictions, projections predispositions and predilections.

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Dressed up Fancy yet out of Place. Spaceship aliens conducting probes inside dark sweaty caverns. Pulling every stalagmite and stalagtite out of orbit.

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Rearranging vines and moss. The vines settle spreading horizontally while the moss climbs entwined round thinly dombed cranium rooves.

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She keeps going missing. Never knowing where She’s been.

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At the Age of Ruin. In between desecration and Destruction.

She was called Ladyfingers for not partaking of wine or grace nor jute or hemp.

Was it Her Stiletto High heels or snuggly fitting Red dress who emphasized hills and valleys?

Molten Lava Peaks and mountains. Liquid Ashes sifted mining for Gold.

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Soul shattered. Ashes Scattered in Paradise Valley of the Queens.

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