Contoured in asymmetrical formation,
The film of skin flimsy and unyielding
Separate from these opulent pastures
(the hum of refrigerators distort and disable
as the static materializes to voices)
this is the lingual resurge of our predestined
transparent obfussed reality
on an ostrological plane.

And though it is my back that is swollen,
From carrying the future of your peoples
Your realities and their offspring
Come merging at the gallows,
Their tenses are moldy shadows
By the film that is flimsy and unyielding.
Underground, my mind is a roadmap,
to a resting place where we gather
At once the chaotic crux beheld.

They tell me that my life is a conception
Of urging galactic bodies
And finally I understand what it all
But in all life. (means)
I am to live as there, on another plane (forever)
In a tangent representation, segmenting the sun in shards
(my mind calculates like a prism)
An obscure arrangement of beings,
Those around me at last unmasked
From their manipulation of
a clumsy walking, multi-complex
mucous membrane socializing apparatus;
for that is what it is to be human.

This world is made of molten,
And fuzzbox phrasings between two planets
Have subtextual longings that divide them.
To complete the unspoken disparity,
My voice falters.
Perhaps if unlocked from our unity,
Spacewind and dustrocks will collect
Like grass all mildewed with
Purple glowing sublingual matter
and each blade spaded and grueling,
The spiral galaxies of
Indeterminable number,
come floating on by the moor.
Compressed and contoured
The multihued island,
Where language is born.

If the once-solid ice that surrounds an island
(the island where all souls rest)
then please remove the bugs from my ashes,
(like monkeys, like monkeys)
Each concept is slowly windswept,
And the dreams of an age relive.
To be born again is not careless,
I can escape this world whenever it pleases.

My self-referentiality is injured;
Hyperlinks scattered on the carpet,
if we, as monkeys are able
to iterate our every desire.
yet still we look to the heavens for guidance,

Then pulsating for what seemed like centuries,
would the sentating spiral galaxies recede
and a new state of being reveal itself?
The digital island that materialized
Is every moment we waited for
And what could only inevitably come.
Release from all that is sacred,
Give birth to the meaning.

Imploding clouds surround me,
My mind splits like an atom -
When worlds merge, there is oscillation
And we’re just its episodic vibrations, Phasing between man, ape, and microorganism
The formality of actually occurring,
My body lilted and transparent
I float away in a mess of words
My entire sentence, sedated.

By d. Taylor Singletary. Also an instrumental available at