A Rite

a blade of grass cuts my ribs blood coming all out like juice boiling in the hot summer humidity. real money spent on real shit to fill your real home that becomes a real coffin for your real death. the lawn mower slicing through the hair of my mother unforgiving. fists of apes pounding tree trunks shaking the homes of feeding birds. the harrowing tale of how my bed sheets are getting staler and how loneliness only lurks around the desperate. a gag ball stuck in a geyser will eventually be spit out and hurdle to the earth like a falling astroid. the dead plastic that fills the house of hoarder starts to become play things for ferrel cats.

sound systems pump beethoven symphonies as high art swims through the streets of the poverty-stricken.
gun shots hit like snare drums and crying mothers and fathers howl like cellos and double basses.

if you have to smoke cigarettes you can stand outside and watch it all unfold

treetops spin with a dastardly wind that might just be coming from the belly of hell itself.

tequila hitting the stomach only to come back up ricocheting off your esophagus. the pretty girls all have big glasses and tiny shorts now. grendel at 5 in the morning wondering why no one has been answering his calls.

I guess this may all sound like nonsense
but if you listen close enough you can
hear the pulse that is moving everything
and you can feel whole again