Post Modern Times

shotgun wedding to the face
a marriage between
Heaven and Hell -- where the planetary brains splatter
out the skull onto the celestial cathedral walls
of a baby universe
in awe of infinite probabilities
total annihilation
She came at me
sliding a coffin with one hand and swinging a snake in the other
dressed in white straps and buckles
a bridal gown made up of straight-jackets
without reflective science or revelation laden mysticism to save me
floundering knowledge set against this stark portrait of companionship distancing itself from
romantic salvation and meditative solitude, BREAK CLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY,
(a programmable sanity)
like glass -- an imaginary border
shattering in the mind's eye,
but aren't we all just human
with the lonely hunger for the comfort of others with the greatest of expectations
in a realm of hollow expenses?