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"happy pt. i"
your mother hears the bells from the town
tranquil hearted and within the exoskeleton she weeps
the exoskeleton breaths,
gives her TV and the metaphysics we will become.
with your vessel in piles
and your brain in the bottle
you’ll nest within the power lines
emancipated from the swallow
of the body that materialized around you
with you being the tongue,
you rattled and became dope sick,
somewhere beneath the sun
with the dramamine kicking in.
you rode the assembly line to being eternal,
no physical being to be held,
just a fever dream within the bottle
if only i could ride a beam of light to an earlier time:
yes, i have the money to turn myself into molecular honey
yes, i have the confidence that when i’m the sap of the trees,
i’ll melt perfectly back into me.
the clockwork nurture is messiah;
we strove to nurture like so
until the snake of industry swallowed us whole
and when our carbon is disintegrated within the stomach,
the same way our ancestors
were buried beneath the willow,
our souls will be left to exist in the circuits of the machine:
vacant of darwinism.
We’ll end our climb
and instead unify as a cloud,
hovering above the assembly line
where the fawns will begin to pray to us.