Prehistory

Some fifty billion years ago
a fireball describes both my creation, and demise.

A bone knows secrets you cannot.
It laughs at the learned.

I ride the galloping beast into the nothingness that permeates time, throughout time--

Extinction’s on the prowl.

Mother waits in her terrible wedding gown.
Mother eats the flesh of your wife.
Mother, dare I say, you look beautiful

hunched their like Cronus.

Massive-whore. My mind’s fossil will remain buried, even if they draw it
some day
on the wall of a church.