a date with the family

The moon is made out of

Shards of broken glass

That reflect beams of sunlight

Into the atoms underneath

My skin.

I carve, “die children die”

Into your right hand

So you can look at it

Every time you masturbate

With a hard cock.

Afterwards you flush the toilet,

Thinking about whirlpools at sea

And drowning.

Thinking about being eaten

By hundreds of small mouths,

Or maybe just a couple big ones,

And what it would be like to exist in something else.

Something unknown with sharp tongues

And dull teeth that grind you into

Tinier and tinier pieces.

Turning you into a poison,

That makes the earth sick.

So sick that it pukes and shits

What’s left of civilization

Into the solar system

Bringing about the last great mass extinction.

The earth is alive,

Just like you or me,

And it’s gasping for air.

The effects of the causes

We believed in and fought for

That amounted to nothing.

We are not heroes, nor martyrs,

But what we are is aware

That our vision is skewed,

Images are blurry,

And our ear drums have ruptured

Because they always had to listen to the

Sounds of our voices.

Filling our skulls with lead or chemicals,

So we can tattoo what’s wrong with us

All over our insides:

You don’t know.

And neither do I,

As we devour what’s left of us

And ourselves.

Becoming something unrecognizable.

Something non-existent.

Clipping our wings

To make us tame.