the future shines

grinding ,every thin slug

smeared across yr fogged

lens' wet smoke ,embolism

shutting down the state or

time of breathless heaving

in the sprawling dark don't

look outside ,glands of

flame choking in your voice

its hushed its viscous de-ex

planation it's your plunger

trying to break the clog

.ccloggg ,a mind a noose

descendant corporation wh

ere the sky once shone

...reeping à travers the cereb, ante,

bellum in long columns vapor-filled...

- Olchar E. Lindsann