Molecular Cannibal

I’ve purged ruinous rubble
in double time,

systematically vaccinated
my erratic addiction to carnivorous friction
without alternative jurisdiction
infringing upon inoperable whimsy.

I’m just another molecular cannibal
in the midst of animal
revelry
and retrospectively manicured history,

but you can be certain there’s misery
enough to go
around.

Outbound space encapsulates
retreating absolutes,

mint green tambourine
emitting music of reverberatory dissolution
sways inward and outward,

geometry defying description,

randomly generated inscription

on the bones of ancient tree trunks.

Familial wordplay discarded
in favor of
ill thought
ill considered
millennially embittered formalism.

Skin deep
and ink deep
frustratingly synonymous
in the eponymous autobiography
of wasteful poets,

cartography illuminating clear lines
of know it all
and the bleeding internal organs of a disassembled magnum opus.

Potent, cogent, myopic rodents
for sentences,
phrases synthesized from battery acid 
and oceans of restless motion.

Perfunctory highs desired and damned,
contradictions conjured from seemliness,
principles at war with practicality,
beliefs in conflict with actuality

burning dualism 
manifest in endless passion,
entrapped and enamored
by necessary action
and finally brought to justice by the gavel
of slothful
intellectualism.

Or is it fear?

It’s difficult to tell
in waters so clear and deep and full of rainbows and prisms and pots of ultraviolet marine existence.

Life’s manic enamel
clamps down upon revelrous toes,

further and further and further
each one of us descends
down our own personal rabbit hole

hoping Wonderland is worth
the unspeakable price of admission.

Willie Watt
1/9/14  

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