ZZZ PUTS WORDS TO SPENGLETON'S CURVES
Mushroom roads break down geometry
Gears, hairs, and cilium turn the clock
Gravity’s existence skirts the walk
sucking inwards, deeper and higher
a breakdown of form
Veins pulsate with creative delight
Sour patch kids dance on icy stoves
The locals reel with hellish fright
A window into the mind, what will we find?
Scorpion entrails contain their victims
Will the survivors envy the dead?
But of course,
the king
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zzz@surrealtimes.net.
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