smashing

the quartertime beat
flows like cold gravy
across my neural activity
as i'm tripping down
iron-clad mental sidewalks
just wandering west


synapsing my electric aura
collapsing the eclectic flora
smashing the toes of those too close


six pale faces
stare out into mine
screaming streaming pixels
bytesize bits of fluid hues
fuzzy and pulsing
in a frosty wash
of blue-gray gruel

six times ten tense bony fingers
reaching and clutching
the dead empty air
weaving an invisible web
systematically slicing & dicing
the transparent squares

not attracted to illumination
nor prone to acidic disintegration
neither melting or cowering from a touch
yet embracing solitude
and self-annihilation


the left side turns down to the top
flip it over square it off and crop
smashing the toes of those too close