AS IF

AS you and I unfasten our eyes the boiling bloom of oblivion’s furnace gives way to a vitreous glob of redness pulsing one then two then three then as a fourth and a fifth the carriage returns a sixth a seventh the bell hammer skips passing over nothing for as long as one then two more succeed and again and pausing a moment to punctuate then again this divine geometric breath emits a further five for as long as the four plus none before a percussion of ten sounds out this oneiric tabernacle of twenty eight suns times twenty four tracing a nirvanal calendar where inexorable bodies are drawn to brush in moments of entropy that stave off the aching homelessness of the spirit as lonely diligent monks lurk down chest tight alleys recording guttural utterances between walls of stroboscopic light they measure and fabricate mesmerised under the wheezing sky the ashes of words tumble silent scattered adrift in gaseous helpless feeble clouds of gravity each sweep of the backhand of annihilation is met with the cymatic cupping of dunes that cradle ancient ululations across metropolitan canyons the bullet trains burst doppler their saturnal madrigals in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni trailing möbius carrousels of the dead dead the dead pump the slick bolus drums of arrogant architects as they pace irrational plazas pockmarked in clawing viscous rituals their salamander ladders intersect the ruins of ecstasy a manipulator of shadows prescribes arcs at arm’s length pluming vectorial carriageways over and over across latitudes of illusory efficiency distributing the unbearable weight down downwards down until solid becomes liquid becomes gas set ablaze the kaleidoscope of possibilities grinds saltpetre shafts of darkness punching the chambers of the labyrinth scaffold collapses pierced by rods archives of carbon cameos washed away their blood left to rust in the avernal light the squeeze box crushes and inhales deep in the putrid recesses of flatulent cathedrals mitred molochs turning thoroughly wielded glamours as armours their pious tongues flick spittles of once grammarous gilded venums bellowing their methane mantras as our suns turn blue and stumble through crepuscular crystal arcades of goya gouged faces revolving grease painted in their aspic tanks bitterly preserved and peering through aeons of slippery masques in all their distorted phases the houses of the deaf preside witness empathy’s atrophy in perpetual refrain as the houses of blind cartographers quill cut their bloody tattoos criss crossing tesseract realms of mechanical flesh weighted down under excremental blocks of clandestine machines for as long as it exists for as long as it resists the children of mercury will lie in wait where the glittering teeth of the kimberlite worm bores the walls of mortified time deep sucking the sucker of mind and sleep spurting mangled venous clewes that flower tassels and stain smashed slab upon slab upon sanguineous slab scouting whispering tendrils through the fractures that drain then flow then rage to underworld lakes where twenty eight times twenty four dervishes churn cosmological turbines the blood of orphans until the exchange of heat of eight billion bonds broken erupts a silver stained sentience emerging submerged in the memory of a belief drowned barefoot and hooded we are dredged in the dust of others and yet still what IF?...Read the full article in the printed issue. Get OVER Journal 5

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