Thursday, June 01, 2006

Dread Preservative

Straggle upright to the convent of stains
Burn on to mighty shakes, the DT overlord,
Over stink, night stick of education
Deliverance crocodile who mourns
Severance and quality music sites.

Unfurl your rights into the time capsule
In fact, a society drunk on Sci-Fi
Couldn’t find a better magnet to crumple than
The boarded up box and hole in the ground
Of protected secrets, couldn’t measure
Appropriately the wax to hold in such strong odors
As rotten bodies, histories in need of lime.

Not to worry. This sand is top notch. No weedy
Finger will ever pry open these horrors. This dream.

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