The hard dark ground
welcoming him
opens in a jagged crack
like the yawning mouth
of a toothless old pervert

He lies there in the cool
black endlessness
of imaginary peace
like a mist of damp dust
thrown over a muscley shoulder

A thousand years might pass
before anger and loathing
descend entirely out of sight
as flesh consumed in the fiery
and molten core of old earth


Sometimes, things just won't work the way we want them to.