The Other Side

Something beautifully miserable surges –
some abrupt and upward violating force emerges –
violently burning through a course resorted to –
dictated – by the flaming center of the thing –
wherein resides its urgent power – blooming
now surreally, sadistically behind the mask
of an enormous silly crimson artificial flower:

worn by a ridiculous mad god intending
wholesale psychic murder – furthering at last his
gleeful glowering dark secret goal: to set about
the task of blasting through and past the contours
of what sentimentally you used to think of
as your Soul – ripping all to shreds: besieging
with a breeding seething travesty of destiny –

whose rape of mind will soon have bled entirely
whatever soft romantic notion you may once
have harbored in your misbegotten head
that everything was “whole” – deforesting
each heartbeat, cutting down its hopes like trees –
as if combusting to black ash what once been green
living wood. The bitch is that it feels so good.

.